


painted red and chrome

by andchaos



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Boxers, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Friends to Lovers, Recreational Drug Use, Sex Toys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2018-12-12 13:54:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 23,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11738442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andchaos/pseuds/andchaos
Summary: Max is a business-savvy student. Anne is her boxer girlfriend - when they're out of the ring. And for all their differences in fame and direction, they love coming home to each other.





	1. Chapter 1

          I. the minor league

 

Max wasn’t sure where exactly her day had gone wrong that she was being pinned up against her locker by her throat, but she supposed that was one of the hazards of running an underground black market through her high school—the same people who wanted to buy her porn and hunting knives weren’t exactly made to mix with polite society. She was pretty sure she would remember more of her knockout moves if thinking wasn’t a higher cognitive function, not meant for a girl currently sporting a bruised cheek and totally getting her ass kicked.

This wasn’t exactly her first fight, so she had enough experience to occasionally lash out and get in a good hit or two, but all it all it was four on one and Max was losing badly. Even if she did manage to claw off the hand of the guy holding her up, the other three would quickly close in. She was focused on staying conscience, which might have been why she did not hear someone shout until one of the attackers was already on the ground. She looked up, eyes cutting over the shoulder of the guy in front of her, just in time to see a whip of red hair and another kid fall beside the first.

Max could all of a sudden breathe again, and she fell back against the lockers, gasping and massaging her throat for a minute before she staggered back to her feet, raising her fists to help—but her savior didn’t need it.

A girl around Max’s age had the leader of the attack squad pressed up against the lockers, and she was _wailing_ on him. Max knew her—everyone knew about Anne Bonny and her boyfriend Jack Rackham, terrors of the town when they wanted to be, though they were usually just trying to make money and make out and be left alone—but Max had never actually been in close contact with either of them unless they were buying off her market or scowling past her in the halls. Well, Anne was usually scowling—Jack, though hard and sharp and sarcastic, was generally in buoyant spirits. He always seemed to amuse himself, anyway.

Anne was only a bit taller than her, but she slouched down to Max’s height. Thin and hard-edged, she nevertheless managed to come off as scrappy-looking, cut up all over with interspersed bruises and wearing a scowl that didn’t come off, even when she wiped a hand across it to get off the blood from the cut on her lip.

“Are you gonna help me or did you want to stand there all day with your thumb up your ass?”

Max was too relieved to see her to glower. She pressed back to standing, and shoved over the kid that Anne was pinning to the lockers with a forearm across his chest so that his head knocked hard against the lockers and he slumped sideways, slipping to the floor. Max turned in time to watch Anne knock the last attacker out cold with a swift fist to the cheek, and then she turned to Max, chest heaving. Max had enough grace in her not to stare.

“Good god,” wheezed Max, holding her ribs where she was almost certain she had been bruised in the scuffle. “What was _that_?”

Anne swiped her palm across a bloody nose, looking Max up and down. Max swallowed.

“What was _that_?” rasped Anne, gesturing wildly toward the boys on the floor. “Why are you fighting all them?”

Max waved her hand. “They are angry with our last transaction. I can’t help it if they don’t play nicely with their toys. I am very clear with my rules: No refunds.”

“You’re hardly careful with your merchandise,” said Anne, stepping up close to her. Max held her breath, but Anne only plunged her hand into the pocket of Max’s skirt and pulled out a battered old watch. She held it up to the light. The dents and scuffs in it shone.

Max snatched it away and stepped back from Anne’s raised eyebrow, her self-satisfied smirk.

“My business is none of yours,” said Max coolly. “Not unless you’re a paying customer today, Miss Bonny.”

Anne tossed her head, her eyes cast up to the ceiling before she looked back down and met Max’s eye.

“Not today,” she said. “My bowie is still in tip-top shape. I take care of my…toys.”

“I’m sure you do.” She paused, but Anne didn’t seem like she was going to answer her question from earlier, so she rephrased: “So…what’s Anne of Jack-and-Anne doing helping me?”

“Sorry for jumping in,” said Anne, not sounding sorry at all, but rather disgusted actually. “I’m sure you were about to pin them all down with your wit any second—” she shrugged, “They looked like they had started an unfair fight. I don’t like unfair fights against…I don’t like fights that both sides aren’t into.”

“I thought your philosophy was that it doesn’t matter who starts the fight, or why, only that you had better be the one to finish it.”

Anne looked away from her, looking bored, but Max thought there was a flicker of something else underneath it. At last, she rolled her eyes.

“Look, alright, the oldest one stole a tenner off of Jack once,” she said finally, gaze skipping across one of the boys on the floor. “Now we’re even. And you and me…well, let’s just say you owe me one.”

Max wanted to argue, but she couldn’t. Even though Anne was obviously lying, it was still true.

“So,” she began, but then her eyes flicked over Anne’s face and down to a spot on her side, where her shirt was slowly staining through with blood. “Anne, you’re hurt.”

She reached out but pulled her fingers back at the last second, knowing her touch likely wouldn’t be welcome. Anne glanced down at her injury and cursed; lifting up her shirt to inspect the wound, she poked idly at the edge of the cut. Max tried to look without staring. It was just a thin tear along her side, bleeding slightly out of what looked like torn stitches.

“Shit,” Anne muttered, picking at the injury. “Now I have to have Vane stitch me up again.”

“Charles Vane?” Max asked, her interest piqued. The look Anne cast her way made it clear she was not going to enter that conversation.

Max knew Charles Vane anyway; most people around town did. He was older than them, had graduated high school just before they entered it and hadn’t bothered to go to college. He was rough and fine with running the streets instead of an office. The word around was that he had emptied and remade the abandoned ticket box over by the rusted and disused train tracks, and now spent his days drinking, smoking, and bedding random women when he was off with his on-again, off-again girlfriend Eleanor. Max knew their relationship well; she’d spent two years taking Eleanor’s mind off her and Vane’s frequent breakups, and another one dating Eleanor before she moved off to college.

(Eleanor had wanted to conquer the business world. Max had wanted to run away and forget the world existed. It was complicated.)

Max cleared her throat. “I could take a look at that, if you want.”

Anne looked up at her like she had forgotten Max was even there. Max colored; perhaps Anne had been complaining and debating with only herself. She lifted her chin.

“What?” Anne asked flatly.

“I could take a look at it,” Max said again, gesturing toward the wound. “Some of my business acquisitions take a rougher hand. I’ve fixed up myself and some of my leads a couple of times. I know how to do the home surgery thing, if you’re looking for discretion and good company.”

Anne scoffed at her, which Max couldn’t decipher as an answer.

“Is that a yes?” she asked, sounding as uninterested as Anne looked.

Anne eyed her up, sucking her bottom lip into her mouth. Max let herself look this time, blinking long and slow.

All at once, Anne turned around, her wild hair flying. She started off back down the hallway, towards the school’s front doors, but she only made it to the end of the that row of lockers before she looked over her shoulder, a small smile on her cheeks.

“Are you coming or what?”

Max tucked a private smile into her chest and hurried to catch up with her.

 

Max wasn’t sure who started it. She just knew that after that day, she and Anne got into a habit of hanging out together at school—her, sliding down the brick wall to sit with Anne when she and Jack cut gym to smoke cigarettes; Anne, waiting outside of Max’s fifth period and walking her down to the math wing where they separated into neighboring classrooms; each making eye contact with the other across the cafeteria and wordlessly putting their lunches down at the same table, and sitting together. Max couldn’t be sure, but she was almost positive that Anne had started to come to school more often than before; maybe she was just more prone to catch Max’s eye now. Either way, they never went more than a few days without saying anything to each other. Even Jack, who at first only begrudgingly let Max sit with him and Anne, had started tipping his head to her when they passed in the halls.

They had skipped the second half of that day after the fight to sit in Anne’s empty house. Anne had downed a quarter bottle of whiskey just to get through Max redoing her stitches, while Max swatted away her hands whenever she tried to help and warned her over and over to stop flinching. She wasn’t much of a drinker usually, but that day Max had killed another quarter of the bottle to catch up with Anne, and they sat around drinking and laughing away the rest of the afternoon, though Max insisted that she was only staying to make sure Anne didn’t reopen her stitches stumbling around. After that, they were friends—it was hard to have your hands on a girl’s open wound and not be, especially when she saved Max first.

“Why are you always showing up with new bruises?” Max asked one day when they were sitting outside the library, Max with a notebook propped up on her knee, scribbling history notes, while Anne tossed rocks out on the grass and complained that Jack had her good pack of cigarettes.

Anne looked over at her, looking confused. “What?”

“You always have cuts on your arms, and you look hurt—earlier you were limping and holding your side.” Max reached out to touch the spot, and Anne dodged away from her.

“Watch it!”

Max backed off, but her eyebrows drew together. “Is—Jack’s not—?”

“What? No. Mind your business,” said Anne, suddenly sharp.

That was hardly convincing. Max closed her notebook and sat up straighter, looking at Anne directly, letting her know that she had her attention.

“Back off,” Anne snapped. “Jack ain’t hurting me, and like I said, it’s none of your business. Go back to studying. You’re going to fail your exam on Friday if you don’t.”

Max eyed her for a second longer before she reopened her notebook, leaned back against the wall, and got back to it. She was deeply involved in trying to come up with good supporting arguments for why bastard feudalism was more at fault for causing the Wars of the Roses than the king’s poor leadership, and was about to give up and switch sides to see if that would be any easier to argue when Anne cleared her throat beside her.

“I’m a boxer,” she grunted.

Max looked up. “What? You’re a—?”

“Well, I wanna be one, someday,” she amended. “I’ve been training since I was about thirteen. Jack got me into it—saw me deck a foster sister one time and said I’d be a natural hand at it. They say I can’t sign up for matches or anything ‘til I’m eighteen, so I’ve got a couple more months, but…I’ve been training nonstop, you know, down at the gym five days a week.”

“The Ranger?”

“Yeah,” said Anne, glancing up at Max for the first time and holding her gaze for just a moment before she turned away, threw another rock. “I’ll have to start off with real minor league stuff, all local competition, but it’ll be something. That’s worth it. Anyway, I used to do all muscle building stuff and technique, but my trainer just started me off on sparring this year. I usually win, obviously. Sometimes they get in a few good punches. I think I’ll have a real shot, once I’ve been in a real ring a couple times.”

Anne peaked at her from under the brim of the baseball cap she always wore. Max thought she even saw her smiling.

Hesitating, watching the side of Anne’s face the whole time, Max slid her hand across the grass and touched her pinky to Anne’s. It wasn’t enough to really push anything, or for Anne to even say or do anything because that would be admitting it was _something_ , and it wasn’t. But Max wasn’t so afraid.

“Could I come and watch you train sometime?” she asked, lips turning up at the corners. Just the thought of it: Anne, sweaty and primal, stray hairs sticking to her cheeks, her concentration focused, her muscles standing out, her body almost bare in spandex and a workout tank top. That’s how Max liked to imagine it, anyway, and it had her bite her lip to stop from saying something else.

“Why would you want to do that?” said Anne, but then she shook her head and laughed, and Max watched her mouth open and grin and found herself smiling too. “Yeah, I guess you could. If you wanted.”

“I would,” said Max.

After a moment, Anne shrugged one shoulder and said, “I’m going down to the Ranger today at six. If tonight works for you.”

Max smiled at her head-on this time, and Anne bumped her shoulder into Max’s.

“That sounds like fun.”

 

Since they already saw so much of each other at school during the day, it felt like a natural extension of things to start accompanying Anne to the gym after school too. In return, Anne started coming on some of Max’s supply runs for her black market, and she was useful muscle. Although Max never got into fights on these occasions, it was nice to have someone watching her back like her suppliers had someone watching theirs. She noticed that she started getting better prices, and it wasn’t because her haggling had improved from great to perfect.

Anne looked really, really good when she fought, too, as Max was slowly but surely discovering. She had assumed so, but it was nice to have that affirmed up close and in person.

She didn’t practice in spandex and tiny camisoles, but she wore muscle tees that hung off her shoulders and showed off both her sports bra and her chiseled abs. Her boxy shorts looked good on her too, and although Max would have been happy seeing more of her thighs, they certainly weren’t doing any damage to her image.

“What are you doing?” Anne asked, not looking over from where she was pummeling a bag swinging from the ceiling. Pieces of hair were escaping from her tightly-wound bun, sticking to her neck and flying out in the air.

Max paused the treadmill where she had been lightly jogging and watching Anne work out from over the top of the machine. She elected not to voice the fact that she’d been ogling and instead said, “I am correcting your form in my head.”

Anne cast her a scathing look as she got off the treadmill and crossed the gym. Max came up behind her and settled her hands on Anne’s arms.

“What do you know about fighting form?” said Anne, although Max noticed with some satisfaction that she sounded distracted and mildly breathless now that Max was so close, pressed up almost against her back.

“I know that I have watched enough Spike TV with you to recognize a correct stance when I see it,” said Max dryly. “And I know that you keep dropping your guard after five minutes or so. Look, you’re winning so you think you’re in the clear—but you’re never in the clear until the whistle blows.”

Anne dropped her forearms and turned around, stepping back a foot, and she gave Max an impressed once-over.

“When the fuck did you become an expert?”

Max crossed her arms, cocked a hip, smirked. “I pay attention. Come here, let me help you.”

Max stepped toward her again, and she felt Anne tense up under her hands before she took a deep breath and unclenched her arms. Max pressed Anne’s forearms a little closer together, and then dropped her hands to Anne’s waist and shifted her hips more squarely over her feet. Max paused, breathing in deeply and getting the scent of Anne’s sweat and natural pheromones mixed in with the gym air, and then she stepped back.

She waved her hand around and said, “Go ahead, try it out.”

Anne gave the bag a few good punches, then looked up, rolling her shoulders.

“Not bad. My trainer will have to fine-tune it later, but—you’re right. It’s easier to put my weight into it.” She tilted her head at Max. “Do you want to learn?”

“Learn what?”

“How to fight,” said Anne, shrugging. “I bet you’d be good at it. Come on, I’m not asking. Step up.”

Max rolled her eyes and sighed, but she could see how it was making Anne smile and she figured she would give in at the end, because Anne was asking and it was making her happy, and Max liked being the reason behind that.

This time Anne was the one who slotted herself behind Max, and she showed Max how to hold her fists and spread her feet and punch hard, with her whole body behind it. She showed Max where to aim on the bag, then moved around to grab one of her hands, corrected her grip, and took a step back.

“Okay, give it a try.” She took another step away and crossed her arms, studying Max carefully.

Max wasn’t that used to being studied closely for herself, but she was used to pretending she couldn’t see authority figures watching her suspiciously, so she managed to keep most of her focus while she gave a few more punches like Anne had shown her. The steadiness of Anne’s gaze in the mostly-empty gym was making it mildly hard to concentrate on hitting anything with feeling, but at least the form was right.

Or so she’d thought.

Anne laughed. “I can’t believe I took your advice on my stance. This is pathetic.”

Max cast her a withering glance, but she couldn’t pretend to be really mad.

“I am much better at street fighting,” said Max, sniffing. “Brawling for product, threatening over fair pay. That does not require so much precision.”

“No,” Anne agreed. “You just gotta hit the general area you want, and hope you draw first blood.”

“I try not to throw any punches at all.”

“Well, that’s not my profession.”

Anne laughed again. She squeezed Max’s arm once, and Max tried and failed not to feel the tingle of it all the way down her shoulder and into her chest. She at least managed to repress her shudder.

“I think I’ll go back to walking,” said Max, jerking her thumb behind her toward the treadmill. “Besides, it’s much more fun watching you than doing it myself.”

Anne rolled her eyes but went back to punching the bag, and Max returned to the treadmill to take a slow walk and watch how Anne’s back muscles shifted and moved through the great arm holes she had cut out of her shirt.

“Alright,” said Anne, twenty minutes later. “I’m done for the day. I’m exhausted.”

“Thank God,” said Max, raising her eyes heavenward. “I’m sweating horribly, and I am supposed to meet Idelle for dinner tonight.”

Anne eyed her curiously as they walked into the locker room together, and Max cast her a similar look back, unsure why Anne was looking at her. She didn’t say anything. Even with Anne rifling through her locker, Max could feel her eyes on her back as she walked toward the showers. A minute later, she heard the shower next to her turn on.

Max’s cheeks heated up when she thought about it, Anne naked right through the wall beside her, washing off the sweat and grime, getting clean. She always tried to push those thoughts down around Anne, because they were friends, but it wasn’t always easy. Max scrubbed harder at her arms, but it was impossible not to think about it. She swallowed.

“Anne?” she called.

There was a pause. “Yeah?”

She took a deep breath, wondering how to ask her question without being weird about it.

“You and Jack know each other so well,” she said at last. “How does he…deal with the worry? Of you in the ring? Of you getting hurt?”

“I’m not sure what you mean,” said Anne. Her voice was just a little raised to be heard above the water, but it still sounded somehow guarded, soft. “How is that any of his business?”

“But doesn’t he worry?”

“He can do whatever he wants,” said Anne. “It’s not my job to not do what I want because my friends might not trust me. Besides, Jack knows what I can do. He doesn’t worry. And he fights, too, what’s the difference?”

“It’s not a matter of faith,” said Max fiercely. “It’s inevitable.”

“What are you asking?” Anne demanded. “Why should how Jack feel any different than you? Don’t _you_ trust I can win?”

“Of course,” said Max, and she did. “But it is different…we are not together.”

“No, we’re—wait.” Max didn’t like the lilt that came into Anne’s voice, then, sly—almost teasing. “Is that what you think, huh? That Jack is my…that we’re _together_?”

“Think? It’s not what I think, Anne. It’s what everyone knows.”

“God, I thought you knew better than those idiots. Believing gossip! Me and Jack haven’t been _together_ in…we’re not. We’ll always be partners, yeah, ‘til we’re both dead and gone. But I couldn’t be…I haven’t been _like that_ with him in a long time. And I couldn’t ever be again.”

Max’s heart beat a little faster. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, feeling, nonsensically, like she couldn’t catch her breath. She wanted to ask the question at the tip of her tongue, the one she really wanted to know, but her pulse was all the way in her ears and she couldn’t do it, she couldn’t ask. Then the moment passed, and she sighed quietly, and finished up her shower.

“Pizza?” Anne asked afterward, while she was tugging on a shirt and Max was wringing her hair out with a towel. Anne wasn’t a girl of many words, but she got her point across well enough, and Max understood her.

“Sure,” she said, shrugging one shoulder. “Although I thought fighters had to be on some kind of healthy diet.”

Anne kicked idly at her locker. “Shut up, Max. I’ve only got two more months before I’m allowed in the ring, so let me have my carbs and fun while I still can.”

Max laughed. “Well, I won’t say no to that.”

 

Max shared a house with about ten other young girls. It wasn’t exactly a halfway house, but it was hardly home either. She was kneeling in front of the TV, watching a show and shelling peanuts onto the coffee table and pretending to edit her college applications, when the front door slammed open, and a second later Anne flopped down on the couch beside her.

Max turned to flash her a smile, and she brushed off her skirt and got up on the couch beside her. Anne slung her arm out casually, her forearm brushing the back of Max’s neck. Max tried to tell herself that it was unintentional, but she couldn’t make herself quite believe it.

“What’re we watching?”

Max lifted her chin toward the screen. “Just the news. You can go ahead,” she added, and handed Anne the remote. Anne flipped the channel to a boxing match—she always seemed to know when all the fights were on. She watched them religiously, the only thing she seemed to really do with any regularity, and insisted that she was doing it for studying purposes. Max figured that was about seventy-five percent true. Anne also seemed to have a taste for people beating the shit out of each other; having seen Anne spar with someone else a handful of times at the gym (and on the street once or twice, if she was being honest), Max could see the appeal.

“So, your birthday is in a month,” Max started. She tilted her head back on the couch, a little closer to Anne’s shoulder. “What are you thinking about doing for it?”

Anne scratched at the side of her cheek, and she pulled a face without looking away from the TV. “Beating some jackass into next decade,” she said with a shrug.

Max pressed her lips together.

“Are you planning your street fighting in advance now?” she said, knocking her shoulder into Anne’s.

“No,” said Anne, her lips curling upward. “No. You know how that college boy Billy has been playing at manager for a few years?”

“If by manager you mean clearing you a space to hit stuff at the gym, then yes.”

“Yeah, well. He got me a couple of fights booked as soon as I’m legal—real minor league stuff obviously. First one’s the night of my birthday though. I figure knocking some sense into some bastard is as good a way to celebrate as any, right? I’ll enjoy it more than a party at any rate. You can take me out for a beer afterward, it will be just like a real celebration.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” said Max, managing not to laugh at first but quickly giving in when Anne knocked her hard in the shoulder.

“Hey, Max,” said Anne after a moment. She sounded suddenly hesitant. “You’re into all that Pilates and yoga garbage, ain’t you?”

“Yes. Why?”

“Well, I…I’m good at the brute force thing, you know, but I always get tired a little bit into a match. I was hoping you could show me some endurance training stuff, keep me from getting too exhausted. I want to be able to last.”

Max looked at her for a moment, considering.

“Is that really important for fighting?” she asked.

Anne shrugged, eyes on the screen again.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said. “It couldn’t hurt, right?”

Max watched her for a second longer. Then she leaned forward and grabbed some of the peanuts she had shelled earlier, tossed them in her mouth, and said, “Of course. I can meet you down at the Ranger after school.”

And so Fridays became their weekly workout days.

 

“You’re moving like a fighter, not a dancer,” said Max.

Anne gave a great, exaggerated sigh and said, “I _am_ a fighter.”

“Well, Pilates is at least partially about grace,” said Max. “I know it’s exhausting, don’t give me that face. Up in position again.”

Anne swallowed hard; Max could see her struggle visibly not to pant harder than she already was as she got into the right form again. Max clicked the remote to put the music back on, and they began again.

After a few more tries, though, Anne seemed bored with the rules: as Max slid down toward the floor in a squat, Anne whipped around and slid over her, rolling Max onto her back and pinning her down to the floor. Max took a moment to catch her breath, gazing up in amazement at Anne’s looming grin above her.

“I win,” said Anne, pressing her face close.

Max shoved at her shoulder, unsuccessfully. “There is no _winning_ in Pilates. You’re just wrestling now. That’s not even _your_ sport.”

“Well, Pilates is hard. Fighting isn’t. And I win.”

“Oh, please,” said Max.

She slipped her arms free from Anne’s grip and ignored her shout as she caught Anne around the middle, and rolled them both over so that Anne wasn’t on top anymore. They rolled around for a second, struggling for dominance, but Anne was the fighter after all and she had Max pinned again in no time. This time when she grinned, all her teeth showed.

“No fair,” said Max, scowling.

Anne just laughed and stood up, pulling Max up beside her. “Go again?”

Max didn’t make the same mistake twice. She had spent a couple months now watching Anne train, and she knew how she moved, how she thought in a fight. Anne got in a few light punches but when she moved to tackle Max again, Max twirled semi-gracefully to the side and Anne went stumbling. Her face was glowing red when she righted herself again.

“What was that?”

Max tried to look innocent rather than smug, like she felt. “You have boxing, I have Pilates. Let’s see who wins.”

True, Anne was good at offense, but Max was fairly good at blocking and dodging and avoiding being hit. When one particularly hard lunge sent Anne stumbling as Max nimbly side-stepped her, Max used the momentary distraction to whirl around and go after her, sending them both crashing into the wall, Anne’s body cushioning Max from the plaster.

Anne struggled until she had turned around in Max’s hold. Max smirked at her.

“Who’s winning now?” she asked, voice low.

“Still you,” Anne grunted, and shoved at Max’s hands hard enough to dislodge her grip and push at Max’s shoulders. Max gave something between a shout and a laugh and Anne pushed her back against the wall, pinning her far more effectively than Max had managed to do. “I win,” she stage-whispered.

“Oh, no. I already beat you,” said Max.

“Really? Then why do I have you trapped between me and this wall?”

“Because you’re a cheater.”

Max snarled playfully and pressed Anne’s arms back, but Anne kept a tight grip on her wrists and no matter how Max struggled, she couldn’t get free. Anne tossed her hair, panting but triumphant.

“Two weeks,” she said smugly. “Two weeks until I’m legal to start fighting. You didn’t really think you could beat me with _dance_ , did you?”

“Pilates isn’t dance,” Max said, narrowing her eyes. “Besides, I doubt this is allowed in the ring. Shit.”

They were both still breathing hard, their chests bumping together when their discordant breathing caught up to the same rhythm every few turns. Anne’s eyes were trailing across Max’s face, and her hands were hot against where their palms were pressed together on the wall. Max’s breath caught as the silence stretched so long that it should have been uncomfortable. She stopped struggling, and hoped that Anne confused her reddened cheeks with exhaustion from a hard workout over what it really was.

Anne swallowed, leaning more of her weight down onto Max. A second later she was gone, rolling until her back was pressed against the wall beside Max, and Max felt like she could only just now breathe again. Slowly, she got her feet back under her and stood up straighter. Anne ran her hand over her hair and down her ponytail, looking anywhere but at Max. An uncomfortable silence settled over them, and then—

“I should head home,” said Max, casting her eyes toward the floor, at the same time that Anne burst out, “I need a fucking shower.”

They looked at each other; Anne looked away first. They muttered goodbyes and Anne grabbed her bag. Max stared hopelessly after her as she trudged away, and only after the locker room door closed behind her did Max manage to get her head together enough to gather her things, too, and turn toward the exit. She walked home quickly, but all through dinner with the other girls and up until she laid out flat on her back in bed that night, she could feel the weight of Anne, pressing her up against the wall like the heaviness of want and doubt settling into her chest now. Why the fuck did she ever let her body get away from her head, she would never truly know.

 

Max texted Anne early on her birthday, a long message of well-wishes and support for her fight later before she tucked her phone back into her pocket and continued dressing for school. She pulled a jean jacket on over her sundress, studied herself in the mirror for a moment, and then went downstairs to grab some breakfast before she headed out. As she was leaving the house, her phone buzzed back with a response. Anne had just sent her a quick, impersonal thank-you, but Max figured it was just nerves about the fight later and didn’t take it to heart.

Anne wasn’t in school that day, and because of that, of course Jack wasn’t either. Max didn’t hear from her again until well after dinner, just a quick message about where to meet for the fight that night. Max scooped some leftovers into a Tupperware container in case Anne hadn’t eaten yet that day and sped out of the house, waving a quick goodbye to Idelle and Ashley where they were sitting on the floor playing a board game.

The match was being held in a stadium—if it could be called that. The building was small and rundown and didn’t even have security; clearly it was usually abandoned except for events like this. Nobody tried to stop Max as she wound her way through several bare corridors trying to find Anne. She eventually found her in what looked to be a locker room, down a hallway with a few bare offices. There was nobody else inside, and the closing door echoed around the room as Max stepped inside.

Anne and Jack were the only ones inside, Anne’s gym bag on the floor. She looked up, frantic nerves clear on her face, and barely acknowledged Max’s presence before she went back to chewing on her nail. Jack was sitting on a bench nearby and rolled his eyes at Max when he saw her, gesturing toward Anne. He clearly needed some help calming her down.

“Where have you been?” Anne snapped, before Max could even say anything.

“You only texted me ten minutes ago,” said Max, holding up the hand not holding the Tupperware and walking slowly toward her like she was trying to calm down a wild animal. Sometimes, when she was agitated, Anne kind of was. “This place is…nice.”

Anne just glared, but Max had the feeling that it wasn’t really directed at her.

“Don’t patronize me,” she said, the bite of nerves clear beneath it. “This place looks like it houses dog fights, but I’m not exactly pro here.”

“Hey,” said Max. She put the leftovers down on the bench next to Jack and reached out to settle her hands over Anne’s shoulders in the hopes of grounding her slightly. “No, you’re not pro yet, but this will help get you there. Hey, stop, look at me. It’s going to be fine. You will do great, and you’ll see that all of this worry was for nothing.”

“Really, Anne,” said Jack. “I would bet on you if anyone was stupid enough to bet against it.”

Anne’s gaze didn’t waver from Max’s face. “Shut up,” she said softly.

Max only stepped closer. “Okay?” she said, ignoring her. “Are you ready go out there and show the world what Anne Bonny can really do?”

“Shut up,” said Anne again, rolling her eyes, but she felt less tense under Max’s hands and she was smiling gratefully at her when she said it. Anne stepped back, and Max let her hands drop down to her sides.

“That’s the spirit,” said Jack, slapping his hands down onto his thighs and pushing up to his feet. “Come on, let’s go see the most fearsome boxer that the league has ever known.”

“Are you going to introduce us?” Anne said wearily, and Jack just laughed and threw his arm over her shoulders. Max followed them as Jack led her toward the door.

“You’ve got this,” said Jack, pausing. “Look, I have to get out there and have a few last-minute words with Bones. Will you be alright here?”

“I can handle it,” said Max, waving him away. “Go talk strategy.”

“Oh no, we’re planning the celebration,” said Jack, grinning at her. “Alright Anne, go out there and kick some ass. Max and I will be right in the front row.”

Anne shoved him out the door, and Jack tipped her a wink before turning and slipping out into the hallway. Anne turned to Max instead. She looked a little less nervous now, and Max smiled slightly and pushed some of her hair from her face. She tried not to notice how Anne’s eyes darted down to her mouth when she parted her lips to speak.

“You’ll do fine,” said Max lowly, keeping her gaze steady on Anne’s. “I have seen you fight punching bags and men and bullies and me. I know how good you are at this. You were made for this, Anne.”

Anne swallowed. Max watched the line of her throat bob with the motion.

“I’m not worried that I’m not good enough,” said Anne softly. “I don’t know why I’m…I mean, it’s not like I don’t think I’ll win.”

“It’s just stage fright, probably,” said Max, still in that same calm and hypnotic tone. She knew how to work some things to her advantage—her body, her voice, her touch as she rubbed soothing circles into the junction between Anne’s shoulder and neck. “But once you get in there, I know that you will forget all about the people watching and do what you were made for.”

“Kicking ass?” said Anne.

“Kicking ass,” Max repeated, smiling. She leaned in closer, until their foreheads were nearly touching and she could hear Anne’s breath catch softly, could see her lips parting.

This was stupid. She was being stupid—reckless and arrogant as usual. For all her impressions of coolness, Max’s head was swimming. Anne was warm and surprisingly soft and looking at her with so much trust and gentleness. Max fought to keep her hands where they were—one on Anne’s shoulder, rubbing slow circles, and the other closed in a fist by her waist. This was about Anne. This was about comforting Anne.

That didn’t explain why the word _dangerous_ was echoing through Max’s head like she needed to be reminded, like she needed to be warned. It didn’t explain why that was being drowned out by Anne’s name reverberating just as steadily through her mind, why even when Anne’s eyes grew wide and Max’s breathing stuttered and hitched, Max didn’t think as carefully as she usually did. Why before she could think twice about it, she reached up to touch the sides of Anne’s face and pressed their lips together, soft but sure.

Anne didn’t kiss like she fought. Where Max half expected her to be sharp, unforgiving, her mouth was soft and gentle and shaky on Max’s own. Her hands dropped to Max’s waist in the few seconds their lips were connected before Max pulled away.

When their eyes met, after a stilted moment with their stilted breathing, Max knew she had made a terrible mistake. She expected to find rage, or disgust, or something easier to dissect than pure shock. She stepped back, wishing her feet would move her more than a few feet away, wishing her body didn’t still feel a pull towards Anne. Anne exhaled, shaky and loud in the quiet room, and ran her hands through her hair, looking down at the floor before glancing up toward Max with her mouth half-open.

“I—”

“Bonny!”

They both jumped at the new voice, turning toward the entrance of the locker room behind them. A man in a poorly made suit was nodding out into the hallway: It was Anne’s time to go into the ring. Max pressed her hands into the pockets on her jean jacket and tried not to look at Anne, not wanting to see what emotions were flickering there. She had fucked up. She had ruined whatever friendship they had had.

Anne was bright red from what Max could see out of the corner of her eye. She swore she would be out for her match in a second. The man told her that he’d be waiting outside, and he shut the door again.

Anne wasn’t looking at Max either, at least not the few times she couldn’t resist glancing up at her. Anne tied her hair up quickly and took a long swig from her water bottle, then turned her back on Max and started for the door. She was just pulling it closed behind her when everything in Max’s chest bubbled up into her throat, and she called out, “Anne!”

Anne turned around slowly, like she would have liked to do anything else, like she didn’t want to look directly at her. Max could tell that Anne had pinpointed a spot slightly above her left shoulder but let it go in favor of saving them both the headache about it.

She cleared her throat. “Have a good match. Good luck.”

Anne nodded jerkily and, after a moment’s hesitation, headed out without another word.

Max put her head into her hands as soon as Anne was gone, shaking it rapidly. She was such a fool. Anne was going to either kill her or never speak to her again.

The match did nothing to alleviate her worry. Not that many people turned up to watch two amateur boxers go at it when they could see a fight with a lot less rules by just walking a little ways down the block, but she and Jack sat together in the front row on the edges of their seats like the fighters were going for gold.

Anne didn’t glance over at them once, and while Max logically understood that she had to focus on her opponent, somewhere deep inside her took it a little personally. The way that Anne’s eyes slid deliberately over her and settled on Jack every time she looked out into the audience didn’t exactly help matters, either. Max chewed her lip and tried to focus on cheering Anne on.

The actual fight was even worse. Anne had undoubtedly been going easy at the gym, but even still, she seemed to be brutalizing her opponent even worse than usual, like something had lit a fire to her fury and she was taking it all out on the twenty year old in the ring with her.

“Jesus Christ,” said Jack, sounding proud and impressed. “She does look a little scary, doesn’t she?”

 When the match ended—and Anne KO’d the other fighter in a personal record time—Max stayed just long enough to cheer her on. Fearing that she would not be wanted at the after party after all, Max did not follow Jack toward the locker room. She told him she needed some air, and he seemed only a little suspicious but let her go.

Avoiding Anne didn’t turn out to be quite so simple, though. Max hadn’t even made it to the edge of the parking lot when someone called her name.

“Where are you going?” Jack called. “Come on, we’re heading back to ours for a drink!”

Max paused, considering blowing him off. After a second though, her need to support for Anne won out over her fears, and she turned and followed him back inside.

The after party was loud. Even though it was small, everyone was in high spirits and drinking heavily—except for Anne, who was sitting on a chair sipping her second beer and grinning around at everyone. Safely ensconced in shadows across the dark room, Max watched her and tried to see whether they should talk it out or not, but Anne didn’t seem to be thinking about her at all. She was talking excitedly to Charles Vane and did not look over at her once.

The party started winding down around one-thirty, when a few friends were already asleep on the couches and the others were yawning and starting to filter out. Max said a quick goodbye to Jack and tried slipping out quietly, but a hand came down on her shoulder and she turned to find Anne looming, her expression hard and unreadable.

“Can we talk?”

She jerked her head toward the hallway, and Max sighed and reluctantly followed. She was finding it increasingly hard to deny Anne anything.

Anne lead her in silence down the hall, and only once they were closed in Anne’s room did she sit down on the bed and finally look at her.

Max chewed her lip. Anne said, “So, what the fuck was that about earlier?”

Max closed her eyes for a second, praying for some sort of strength, and then she sighed and sat down beside Anne on the bed. They were as close as they had been in the locker room. Somehow Max doubted that things would end the same way now.

“Anne, I’m not sorry,” she said at last, watching Anne’s eyebrows draw together at that. “Not about kissing you, not about being attracted to you, but if that’s not what you—”

She didn’t get a chance to finish her “we can just be friends if you’re not gay” speech. Anne’s lips where on hers again. Max clutched automatically at Anne’s shoulders, pressed closer, and felt Anne melt against her. Anne: sweaty, tired, buzzed, writhing—Max felt lightheaded already. Anne slid her hands into Max’s hair and kept her still, sliding her mouth against Max’s jaw, then on her neck, until she was right by her ear.

“How could you kiss me right before a fucking match?” she growled against her throat, and Max gasped, tried not to grin too hard at the lamp-lit ceiling. “Of all times to do it! What the fuck were you playing at, Max?”

“I just—I didn’t think,” Max admitted. “I just—”

She didn’t really know how to explain herself—that she had just wanted Anne for awhile, and maybe Anne wasn’t like her, but she couldn’t help herself in that moment—but it turned out not to matter. Anne grabbed her hand and tugged at it, pressing it against her chest. Max swallowed, feeling Anne’s pulse race beneath her palm.

“Jesus, Max. Does it feel like I don’t want you back?”

Max leaned forward and kissed her hard again. Anne fumbled at Max’s jacket until Max shrugged it off her shoulders and let it fall to the floor. Anne kissed at her bare shoulders too. Anne was still in only her sports bra and shorts, now with a sweatshirt thrown over it, and Max spread her hands out over Anne’s bare back and felt Anne’s body arch into hers.

“I was fucking distracted the whole fucking match,” Anne rasped. “I almost killed that bitch just to get back and talk to you, and then we had this whole after party and I couldn’t get you alone, and you didn’t say a word—”

“I wasn’t sure you would want to see me,” Max admitted. Anne paused a moment, looking at her. “I wasn’t sure if I had crossed some line—”

“Has anyone ever told you, you think too much?” said Anne, and Max laughed breathlessly and pulled her back in for another kiss.

They kissed hard and desperate for a few minutes, Max clutching at Anne’s waist, touching her stomach and her hips, and Anne clawing at Max’s back. Anne divested herself of her sweatshirt, hovering close by like she didn’t want to pull too far away. Eventually they slowed down, their kisses softer and longer. Max laid Anne down on the bed and spread her body over hers, their mouth still connected, Anne’s tongue on her own. Max’s dress was rucking up around her hips, and Anne had her hands high on Max’s thighs, almost on her ass. Max let her hips drop down onto Anne’s, feeling more than hearing her groan.

“You must be tired after tonight,” said Max, smiling coyly down at Anne.

Anne’s mouth hung open. She said nothing.

Max pressed her hand against Anne’s stomach, and then her fingers crept lower, and lower, until they breached the elastic of her sport shorts and went further still. Anne was sweating, a light shine at the edges of her hairline. She had taken out her ponytail and her hair was starting to frizz where it was splayed out on the pillows beneath her.

“I’ve still got some energy left enough, for this,” said Anne, and Max laughed and Anne kissed her all open-mouthed and hot.

Max pulled back only to slide down her body until she was level with her waist. She pulled Anne’s shorts and underwear down and off, and Anne sighed and melted further into the bed, her thighs falling open a little bit more.

“You look good enough to ravish, when you’re fighting,” Max said conversationally as she kissed all up and down Anne’s thighs, feeling her leg muscles squirm and clench. “You’re lucky I didn’t climb into the ring myself.”

“That’d be a show for them,” said Anne, pushing some of Max’s hair back.

“I’d rather have you alone.”

“Me too. So what are you waiting for?”

Anne was hot against her tongue when Max licked into her, and she heard her sigh above her head. Max licked and sucked at her, and after awhile, when Anne’s thighs were spasming a little less and just tensed up tight beside her ears, Max pressed a finger inside her and fucked her gently, until she found the spot that made Anne let out a throaty groan. Her back arched, and Max sucked at her clit while her hips bucked and bucked until she fell back against the bed, panting.

Max laid out beside her, stroking Anne’s side with idle fingers, drawing nonsense patterns across her ribs.

“I was wrong,” Max said thoughtfully. “I thought you were beautiful before, but it’s nothing to how you look now.”

“Oh, stop with the dirty talk, you’ve already got me in bed.”

Anne sighed, and she rolled over to wind her hand through Max’s hair and kiss her hot and long, her tongue flicking into Max’s mouth and running along the roof of it. Her free hand pressed up under Max’s dress, pressed inside her own panties, and sank into her wetness. She fucked her, rhythmic and hard, while Max gasped and sighed into her mouth. When Anne stopped kissing her to let her breathe every now and again, she stayed close and pressed tinier kisses all around her mouth and along her jaw.

Worked up from being between Anne’s thighs, Max was already close to the edge. She came maybe five minutes later, letting out little whines as she rocked against Anne’s hand and kissed at her neck. After, when she was still, Anne petted her hair and let Max come down, breathing into Anne’s neck and feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.

Max wanted to lay there all night, her hand splayed out on Anne’s waist, feeling Anne’s fingers in her hair. She closed her eyes, getting comfortable, breathing in Anne, breathing out her worries from earlier that night.

“People are waiting,” said Anne after awhile, sounding throatier than usual. “Everyone’s just outside.”

“They’re sleeping,” said Max dismissively. She curled closer to Anne.

“Not all of them.”

“Enough of them.”

Anne paused. “I guess you could stay here tonight.”

Max leaned over the side of the bed and threw the covers over them both. Anne laughed and rolled out of bed.

“Come on,” she said, reaching out for Max’s hand. “I’ve got pajamas you can borrow.”

Later, when their teeth were brushed and they were each comfortable in a pair of Anne’s cotton shorts and one of her big t-shirts, Max pressed herself against Anne’s back. Anne reached over and took one of Max’s hands, and Max curled their palms together. Max closed her eyes.

“You should have stopped thinking a long time ago,” Anne said, her voice a ghost in the dark.

Max pressed her smile into Anne’s back. “Yes, I should have.”

 

Max was actually _happy_ , happier than she had been in awhile. She and Anne were girlfriends, Anne was moving up the ranks, and Max was pretty sure she was going to college. She wasn’t sure things could get better than this.

 

*** * * * * * ***


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack shoved the laptop over so she could have a better view. “The most ridiculous rumors are flying all over the internet today—Apparently, you’ve come out. To some worthless slug of a frat boy, too. And I thought they had run out of stupid shit to say about us.”
> 
> “Don’t give me that look,” she said, rolling her eyes.
> 
> “Oh, god. So it’s true then? Did you really think that was…wise? I thought you’d talked to Billy about this.”
> 
> “What the fuck does that bonehead know?” Anne snorted. “He said it would be damaging to my reputation to let the whole world know I was lesbian. Well, shows what he knows. Like my reputation can go even more into the shitter than it already is? Christ, Jack, and I thought you at least were smart.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the sex scene in this chapter is especially strong/charged with sapphism because it was written during the eclipse, when the sun (lesbian) and the moon (bi) went to visit each other xx

          II. the major league

 

Max was only certain about two things in this world: One, Anne Bonny looked really, really good, even with blood on her knuckles and a bruise on her cheek (Max wished she would be more careful, but she couldn’t deny enjoying the reminder that her girlfriend was very strong and brave). Two, she was without a doubt going to fail her accounting midterm. These things might have been related.

“You’re overreacting,” Anne sighed, nevertheless letting Max sidle up close to her with the pretext of holding the ice over Anne’s eye at a better angle. “I don’t need to be babied.”

“I’m being helpful,” Max insisted, which was also true. “I like taking care of you.”

She tipped Anne’s baseball cap off her head and tossed it on the couch beside them, then settled her hand over the junction of Anne’s shoulder so that her fingers could rub at the back of her neck. She felt Anne’s hands settle on her waist, the pads of her fingers pressing into her sides.

“Are you sure we can’t quit this and just fuck?” Anne pressed. She tilted her head a little, either so Max could press the ice pack against her face better or to make herself look more kissable, Max couldn’t tell. The new angle did reveal another bruise along her jaw though, and Max clicked her tongue.

“Trust me, I have a very special night planned for your victory.”

“When does that start?”

“When I say so,” said Max. “At least after this pack is finished.”

Anne rolled her eyes, and the way she tossed her hair with the gesture made her chin tilt closer to Max’s where she leaned over her.

“Come on, you know you’re always waiting to pounce on me after a good fight,” said Anne, low and tempting.

Max just stared back, trying to look unimpressed. Anne’s grip on her waist tightened, and Max gave in to the smile she could feel edging up under her skin. She knocked their foreheads together gently.

Max leaned down to kiss her first, liking how Anne pressed up into her to harden the first soft meeting of their mouths. She let the hand holding the ice pack fall a little, and sighed in momentary defeat. She was the first to press her tongue into Anne’s mouth, liking how Anne clutched tighter at her waist at the movement, and liking even more when Anne bit down on her lip and sucked on it softly. Max kissed her, warm and teasing, for another minute before she pulled back.

Anne’s eyes were dark and hungry, her mouth slightly ajar and red. Max pressed her lips together, still feeling Anne’s own there. Her mouth was warm and tingling, remembering the press of the kiss.

“That’s so you won’t forget what’s waiting for you. Now go finish tidying up,” said Max, rubbing her thumb over a spot on Anne’s cheek. “You’re still bleeding.”

Anne grumbled but got up. Max smiled as she fell to the side, giving Anne room to go, and once the door shut on their bathroom she got up and started putting away the first aid supplies she had scattered across the coffee table. The same coffee table, she noted with a pang of guilt, that had all her notes and papers spread out over it.

Right. She was supposed to be studying.

Figuring she had enough time to get some work done while Anne finished cleaning herself off, and knowing that she wouldn’t have as much opportunity to focus on schoolwork later—she really did plan on giving Anne that victory celebration tonight—Max settled back on the couch once she had stashed away the first aid supplies and pulled one of her textbooks toward her. She picked up a highlighter and tried to focus.

But after thirty minutes of studying, her mind started to wander. She was thinking of Anne’s mouth, and the way that she could still feel the pressure of it on her own. She touched her lips with light fingertips, considering. She was thinking, too, about how Anne had been gone in the bathroom for a very long time. She was thinking that she really ought to check on her—for Anne’s own sake, not her own. Of course.

Anne was lounging in a bath, and she peeked one eye open when Max peered through the door.

“What?” she said, settling back into the water and closing both her eyes again.

“Time’s up,” said Max softly. She sat on the edge of the tub and leaned over to swipe some suds off Anne’s shoulder. “It’s seven.”

“So?”

“So,” Max repeated, one side of her mouth curling up, “it’s evening now. Time for your reward for winning.”

“I thought I already got my reward with that medal they gave me.”

Anne’s voice was soft, her eyes hard. She watched as Max stood up. Yes, Max had Anne’s attention now.

Max backed toward the door, and before she slipped out, she paused. She let her skirt slide down her thighs and stepped fluidly out of it. She pulled her shirt up over her head and let it fall to the floor with the skirt.

“Or you can have your bath,” she added offhandedly, spinning around to go, now just in her black bra and matching lace panties. “Whichever you’d like.”

She winked and closed the door behind her. A second later she heard the tub’s drain unplug and the water swirl.

Max lit a few of the candles she had set up around their room. They were always there, but rarely lit; Max just liked the touch that it added to the otherwise drab décor. In the candlelight, though, their bedroom seemed to glow. Max undid her bra, kicked off her panties, and lay down on their bed.

The door creaked open a minute later. Anne was toweling off her hair, but other than that she was entirely naked. She saw Max on the bed and only paused a moment before she dropped the towel down to the carpet and stepped closer, her eyes hooded and dark.

She crawled onto the bed over Max. Max touched her bare waist. Anne’s hair, darker than usual now that it was wet, swung like a curtain beside them, blocking out the rest of the world. Max privately felt that it wasn’t necessary; she always seemed to get tunnel vision when it was just her and Anne, anyway.

“Fuck teasing,” said Anne, her low voice almost a growl. “Ain’t this supposed to be my night?”

Max grinned up at her. She loved when Anne got like this, so sure of herself.

“Who’s teasing?” she breathed.

Anne kissed her wet and open, and Max arched her body up against hers to taste more of her mouth, have more of her tongue pressing up against hers. She cradled Anne’s chin in her palm, angling her where Max could most easily devour her even from below, and kissed her like that until Anne pulled back. There was something brewing behind her eyes, Max could tell.

“You know,” said Anne, trailing her fingertips up Max’s ribs. She circled one of her breasts lightly with her thumb. “I think we should be celebrating you just as much as me.”

“What did I do?” said Max. But she shifted more comfortably onto the bed as Anne bent down to follow her thumb’s path with her tongue—this was always Anne’s favorite place to be.

Anne kissed between her breasts. “Graduating soon…securing a job with Eleanor _fucking_ Guthrie’s company as soon as you do. This is it, you’re on your way to greatness.”

“I plan on taking you all the way with me,” Max returned. Anne started teasing one of her nipples with her tongue and teeth, and Max couldn’t even care that they were discussing her ex-girlfriend in bed. She was so far past that; now she had Anne between her legs, teasing both of her breasts with her mouth. It was worth whatever pain had happened before.

Anne kissed her again, then her neck at length. Max moaned, and slid her hands down to massage at her ass and hips, squeezing whenever Anne found a particularly sensitive spot near her pulse point. Soon, though, she couldn’t stand just lying there, and as good as Anne felt on her, Max hooked her leg around Anne’s and rolled them gently over so they were both on their sides. She found Anne’s mouth again with her own, and Anne cupped one of her cheeks and pulled her body closer on the bed.

“I fucking love you,” Anne breathed.

Max mumbled it back into her neck, her chest, her ribs. She pushed Anne onto her back and pressed her tongue and lips all down her stomach, loving how Anne’s legs fell open wider around her shoulders and how she shivered and tensed and gasped, so involuntarily, around her.

Max pressed her lips to the inside of Anne’s thigh. She looked up at her, spread out on the sheets, and it took a second for Anne to look down and meet her eye.

“Tell me what you want,” said Max, low.

Anne thought for a second. Then her face lit up, and she sat up. Max relaxed back onto her haunches, arching an eyebrow.

“What?” she asked.

Anne touched her face again—her cheek, her jaw, swept her thumb across Max’s bottom lip so her mouth fell open. She said, “I want to watch you scream.”

Before Max could even ask what she was talking about, Anne had rolled to the side and off the bed, onto her feet. She went to their closet and started scouting around on the top shelf above Max’s dresses. Max’s smile faded, watching her. She thought she knew what Anne was after…

After a minute of stretching up on her toes and feeling around, Anne found what she was looking for. She pulled down a box—grey and plain, looking no more suspect than any of the other boxes they had stored up there, most of which held shoes or purses or small trinkets—and her mouth curled into a grin as she stood, staring at it for a moment. Then she met Max’s eyes.

Max unfroze. A smile played at the edges of her lips, and she rose onto all fours and crawled to the end of the bed.

“Is that what you’re after?” she asked. She crooked a finger toward Anne. “Well, come on then. Show me what you are planning to do with me.”

Anne set the box down on their dresser, ripped off the lid, and pulled out a single, simple vibrator.

It was Max’s favorite; small and uncomplicated, but it did the trick and its vibrations were fairly powerful. It always managed to hit her just right inside and it was discreet, cute. It was also maroon, the exact shade of her favorite lipstick. That was just a bonus.

“You want to play?” said Max, delighted.

Anne came closer and tugged her up into a hard kiss, but she was gentle as she slowly guided Max onto her back again so she could lay comfortably against the pillows. Max settled in, feeling hot where Anne’s fingertips touched her ribs, her chest, the sides of her face. Anne left the vibrator on the sheets and kissed Max gently, and the hand not supporting her weight drifted down to the junction of her thighs and pressed lightly upward.

Max gasped, feeling Anne’s finger enter inside her. Anne’s proud face hovered above her, and she brushed some of Max’s hair off her forehead where she was starting to sweat. Max knew she was looking up at her with unbroken reverence, and she hoped that Anne saw exactly how much love and devotion she harbored behind that look.

Anne sped the movement of her finger, making it more intense. She pumped in and out of her slowly, forcefully, and Max could feel every move she made all the way down to her toes. She arched her back, spread her legs. She sighed when Anne pressed another finger inside her and fucked her, in earnest.

Max was repeating Anne’s name desperately, senselessly; she scrabbled her nails across Anne’s shoulders and pressed the pads of her fingers into Anne’s neck. Anne was watching her writhe with her lips slightly parted, and only when she shook her head, seeming to come back to herself, did she pause in what she was doing to Max and reach for the toy.

She coated it in lube first from their dresser drawer, the kind that smelled like cherries and was supposed to taste like it too, but didn’t actually taste like much of anything. Max watched her, eyes heavily lidded, as she coated the vibrator in it, and then she settled her head back on the pillow, bit her lip, and tried not to cry out when Anne pushed it inside her.

It didn’t work. She knew she called out, and was just thankful that Jack wasn’t home—more for Anne’s sake than her own, she didn’t have much skin in the matter, but Anne liked to keep her affairs a little more private than that. It was good, then, that they were alone; because Max was gasping and giving out little cries and sighing as loud as she ever did while Anne, gently at first and then building in steam, fucked her long and hard with the vibrator. Then, when it was fully inside her, and Anne was ducked down pressing wet kisses into the dip of her collar, Anne flipped it on. For a moment, Max was sure she was really seeing the stars.

Anne knew her body too well. The toy was pressed right up against her sweet spot, and she was shaking with it. Anne huffed a chuckle into her skin, her teeth grazing her collarbone, and she began to slowly fuck the toy in and out of her again. Max made a strangled noise, grasping for her. Anne fell more against her body, letting Max’s hands roam but never forgetting her purpose. Max, wanting her to feel as good as she, massaged her tits, her ass, rubbed at her clit and flicked her tongue along Anne’s jaw at the same time so that Anne gave the kind of groan that Max was letting out on every other pass of the vibrator against her g-spot. As if in retaliation, Anne shifted the vibrator so that her thumb could rub against Max’s clit every time she pushed it in, and when she switched to short, harder thrusts, it was just to the right side of overstimulating. Max bit down on Anne’s jaw and pressed her fingers inside her, feeling Anne moan and shake above her.

“This is your night,” said Anne, sounding undone and shaky, but sure of herself.

“I thought it was yours.”

“So, we’re agreed,” Anne gasped, rising out of Max’s reach, “we’ll take turns—”

Sitting up between Max’s legs, out of reach of her searching hands, Anne redoubled her efforts of making Max come undone. She ran the vibrator along her clit, then thrust it in and out, in and out, making sure the tip of it rubbed against her sweet spot every single time. She fucked her faster and faster until Max reached out to grab Anne’s shoulders and came, long and hard, with a broken groan on her lips and her hips rolling, searching for more, wanting more of the feeling of hitting her peak while she was so wrapped up in Anne.

When it was over, Max collapsed back against the mattress. She shuddered with overstimulation as Anne switched off the toy and pulled it out, then tossed it on the bedside table so it could get cleaned up and put away later. Sweat-soaked, Max lifted an arm against the pillow and Anne rolled over and laid down in the cradle of her elbow, cuddling up to her side.

“I love you,” Max whispered, pressing exhausted kisses against Anne’s hair. “Thank you.”

“I _am_ proud of you,” said Anne. “You’re going to topple the business world, just you wait and see.”

“Oh, I will,” said Max tiredly. She couldn’t close her eyes yet though, and the thought of what was yet to come—namely, Anne—made a shock of energy course through her bones. She smirked, and Anne looked up and said, “What?”

“I really am grateful for what you have done,” said Max, low and seductive again. She felt Anne tense beside her in anticipation. “And, as I have said, it is your night too…”

She pulled her arm free and hovered over Anne. Anne looked up at her, lips parted, breath coming quick. Max leaned down to kiss her, soft and sensual, and she listened to every gasp and hitch in Anne’s breath as she began to kiss her way back down her body.

 

Max lounged. She had just gotten out of a brutal exam for her Labor Economics course, in which she was sure that she had missed one of the attributes of human capital theory, and now she just wanted to sink into the couch and forget about everything related to school. She had, somewhat by instinct, turned the channel to an old interview of Anne’s and she was shoveling mouthfuls of leftover chicken parmesan in her mouth and thinking about how beautiful her girlfriend was. It was a very good distraction.

On screen, the interviewer shoved a microphone closer to Anne’s face. Anne flinched away, shooting the woman a distasteful glance, but she didn’t seem to notice. Max thought she recognized the woman from an episode she’d seen once on E News. She thought her name might have been Georgia.

“So, Anne,” said maybe-Georgia, in what Max supposed was meant to be a sly tone. “The rumor mill says you’ve been spotted several times getting cozy with another fighter in the league. What are your—”

Anne’s snort disrupted the end of the question. She said flatly, “What, Jack?”

Georgia looked pleased. “So you _do_ know him? You’re close with Rackham?”

“Of course. Jack and I have been thick since grade school. What’s that to you?”

“Would you say he was your special someone?”

Anne’s brow was knitted together. Max, feeling a little queasy now, pushed the Tupperware container of chicken aside.

“Me and Jack have an understanding,” said Anne carefully, “but sex isn’t part of it.”

“So what exactly does this _understanding_ —”

Max did not like the way Georgia stressed the word, but she didn’t have time to watch further. The door opened up behind her, and she turned to see Jack traipsing into the living room, looking pleased. Max muted the TV.

“What’s got you in a good mood?”

“Match went great last night,” he said, clapping his hands together and rubbing them. He was clearly still riding the high from his win.

Max smiled.

“Yes, I know. I was there. I was also there when you came home stinking drunk at four in the morning from your… _celebration_.” Max’s smile stretched into a grin. Jack shrugged. “But that’s not all, I can tell. What is it?”

“Got a deal today. A good one,” said Jack after a pause. He rummaged around in his pocket for a minute and came up with a decent-sized bag of weed. Even without her scale, Max could guess that would ring them in a couple hundred dollars.

“Jack, I could kiss you.” She jumped up and seized it from him to inspect, but it looked alright. She would have to examine it more later. As it was, she waved the bag and smiled. “Should we test the product?”

“God, I was hoping you’d say that.”

Max got a blunt wrap and a lighter from Jack’s room, and came back out to find Jack had turned the sound back on Anne’s interview, which he was watching as he separated some of the bag’s contents into the grinder they kept under the coffee table. Max took it from him and started rolling, while Jack leaned back.

“Why are you watching this shit?” he asked.

Max, who had been trying to tune it out unsuccessfully, shrugged. The interviewer was refusing to let Anne stray from the subject of whether or not she was romantically involved with Jack, and Anne, though not affirming it, also wasn’t bringing up the main reason that that was impossible. Max was saved having to fumble an answer to Jack’s question by finishing the blunt, leaning back, and lighting it. She took a bigger hit than she normally would have, and held it in for longer than usual.

“It’s just trash and lies,” Jack continued, eyes still on the TV. “Oh look, she just told them that we’re roommates. _That_ shouldn’t stir up any unnecessary rumors—Oh, thanks.”

Max had handed him the blunt. She crossed her arms over her chest now, and nodded her chin at the screen.

“Anne and I have been spotted out together just as many times as the two of you. I am out! Why don’t they ever consider _that_ a plausible explanation?”

“You may be out, but you’re still just a student,” said Jack, blowing out a mouthful of smoke. “For now, I know! One day you’ll be queen of this city, blah blah blah. Sorry, but they don’t even know your name. Besides, she’s never said she’s _not_ gay. She’s just never said she is.”

“I understand why she doesn’t just tell them.” Max sighed. “I don’t like it.”

“If it helps, there are just as many rumors that Anne likes women after all,” said Jack, in what he probably considered a bracing way. “You know how it is. A girl can knock a man out in a minute flat, everyone always assumes she’s butch.”

Despite her best efforts, Max burst out laughing. Jack seemed to relax a little, seeing her unwind, and he elbowed her playfully and passed her back the blunt. After a moment Max leaned over to grab the remote and change the channel. They settled on watching an episode of Rick and Morty that they’d both seen a million times and talked about lighter things while they took turns hitting the blunt. When that was kicked, Jack offered to roll another. Max didn’t say no. By the time Anne got home in the early evening, Max had forgotten all her sour feelings from earlier and insisted on keeping her close beside her while Jack cooked dinner.

 

“Things would be easier with Augustus if he would just meet my friends,” Idelle fretted. “I think he’s embarrassed of himself. I don’t know why he won’t come to dinner with you all, he keeps saying he wants to and backing out at the last minute!”

Max patted her arm with the hand that wasn’t gripping onto a strap of the book bag she had slung over her back. They had spent the whole of their managerial accounting class discussing how to address Idelle’s boyfriend troubles in whispers, and Max just didn’t know how to gently convince him to get over himself and be pleased with the good hand he’d been dealt in dating Idelle. The best she could do was take Idelle’s books from her hands and lead her out into the sunshine, trying to cheer her up.

“Why don’t we go out for drinks tonight, just the girls?” Max suggested. “Come on, Esther’s in town visiting you and Alice and Charlotte, isn’t she? I’ll bring Anne. It will be fun, and it will take your mind off things.”

Before Idelle could respond, a voice piped up from behind them.

“Excuse me, but I didn’t agree to no girls’ night out. Don’t you have finals coming next month, anyway?”

They both whirled around. They had walked right past without seeing her, but now Max grinned: Anne was leaning beside the door to the building, looking cool as anything in her usual baseball cap, with a leather jacket tied around her waist, and her faux-gold nose ring glinting in the sun. She even smiled a little when Max dumped Idelle’s books back into her hands and rushed her, catching her up in a light but passionate kiss. It made the cap jostle on her hair, and Anne slid her hands into the back pockets of Max’s high-waisted shorts.

“Hi,” said Max.

Anne bumped her nose against Max’s. “Hello.”

“What are you doing here, shouldn’t you be training?”

“I came to pick you up.”

Max stepped away from her and turned around. Idelle took one look at her expression and rolled her eyes.

“Go,” she said. “Go be with your girlfriend. But I’m holding you to those drinks tonight, alright? And Anne, you’re coming too. I don’t care what excuses you have, this is important.”

“Is it?” said Anne, tilting her head. Max, who had looped her arm around Anne’s waist, tugged at her meaningfully. “All right, all right.”

“We’ll be at the bar at nine,” said Max. “Oh, look happier, the both of you.”

“I will be, once I’ve had some tequila in me,” said Idelle. Then she raised her hand in a farewell wave and turned to go.

“A girls’ night?” said Anne, once Idelle was gone and they had started walking, swinging their joined hands between them. “Why the hell did you say I’d go to that?”

“Idelle is having a tough time with Augustus,” said Max. “Come, you can walk me back to the car. I know what will make you feel better.”

“Is it making out with you in the backseat?” said Anne, sounding tired.

“Are you saying that that won’t help improve your temper?”

Anne shrugged, and Max tugged on her hand to make her walk faster. They barely got halfway across the greens, however, when Max noticed a boy watching them, and once the two of them made eye contact, he hastened to bar their path.

“Who are you?” said Max, none too kindly. He had a look in his eye that she didn’t much care for; she could spot men like him a mile away.

“I know you,” he said.

He was not looking at Max, but at Anne; she might as well have not existed at all. Max huffed irritably and crossed her arms over her chest, reiterating her question more forcefully.

“You’re Anne Bonny,” he continued.

Anne scratched at her head, squinting in the afternoon sun and not really looking too hard at the boy. “Yeah. So? Who the fuck are you?”

“Shawn,” he said, sticking out his hand. Anne slung arm around Max’s shoulders and stared at his hand until he let it swing back by his side. “Um…I really like how you fight. You’re good.”

“Thanks,” said Anne, lightening a little. “You ever been to a match?”

“Not in real life,” said Shawn, leaning forward eagerly. “I’d love to though, I watch on TV all the time. I keep wanting to bring my friends…”

Max listened politely while he and Anne talked about fighting; even though she went to all of Anne’s matches, she didn’t know much about the finer points of boxing, the stances and techniques that this boy seemed so interested in. After awhile, Shawn seemed to finally notice Max and how they were wrapped up together, and he leaned back on his heels.

“Hi,” he said. “Uh, who are…?”

“Max,” she said, sticking out her left hand since the other was wrapped around Anne’s waist. Shawn shook it carefully, casting a confused glance toward Anne.

Max was prepared to ignore that look, but before she could change the subject and draw Anne away with her, Anne’s arm tightened on her and she said bluntly, “Max is my girlfriend.”

Shawn looked startled, but he quickly smoothed the shock from his wrinkled forehead and shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“That’s cool,” he said. Max couldn’t decipher his tone enough to see if he meant it. To her, he asked, “Do you go here?”

“Yes,” she said. “Actually, I think we’ve met.”

He squinted at her. “Oh, yeah. I think I bought a bump off you once.”

“More than that,” she said levelly.

“Right, right…what are you in school for again?”

“I’m in the business school. Graduating in May, actually.”

“Cool. I’m only a sophomore—I’m doing sports management.”

“Ah. I see why you’re so interested in Anne, then.” Max even gave him a small smile. “Well, we have to go. We have plans later that we should be getting ready for.”

“Oh—um, of course. Well. It was awesome to actually meet you, Anne.”

“You, too. I hope you actually get to see me fight in person sometime. Maybe at the championship in a few weeks, you could get your shot.”

“Yeah, that would be great. See you.”

Max and Anne waved at him over their shoulders and walked on toward the campus parking lot. Despite her promise earlier, Max got into the driver’s seat and, once Anne slid in beside her, pulled out and onto the main road. They drove in silence for nearly five uncomfortable minutes before they pulled up to a red light, and she felt Anne’s eyes on the side of her face.

“What are you thinking about?”

Anne’s voice was low. She swept some of Max’s hair off her shoulder, exposing her neck, and Max closed her eyes for a moment and sighed.

“I did not want you feel that you had to tell the world for me.”

She said it measured, calm; but she heard Anne suck in a fast breath beside her and did not take her eyes from the road, only gently stepped on the accelerator as the light turned green and she turned them onto a darker street.

“I didn’t do it for you,” said Anne. Max glanced at her. “Jesus Christ, Max. Something like _this_?”

Max gritted her teeth. “Then _why_?”

Anne was silent for a long moment. Then she said, “I don’t think I get what you’re asking me.”

“Oh, please. You think he won’t go telling the world? And after all this time, never saying it outright when you had the chance—!”

“That’s not fair. You know that’s not fair. I never _once_ copped to all those bullshit stories about me seeing this guy or that…Not to mention the rumors about me and Jack!”

“Those rumors have always existed. They likely always will.”

Anne sighed. She slumped down further in her seat and said nothing.

“I just don’t understand,” said Max, gentler. “I wasn’t angry with you, I knew why you had to stay in the closet. So why now?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she watched Anne shrug one shoulder. Max chewed on the inside of her cheek, not quite knowing what to say, and silently drove the rest of the way back to the apartment. She pulled into their spot, but even after she put the car in park, neither one of them immediately moved. After a long, quiet moment, Max undid her seatbelt and turned to look at Anne.

“What’s the point in fighting about this?” said Anne, before Max could do it herself. “Isn’t this good news?”

Max gave her a quiet little smile. She reached over and cupped Anne’s cheek in one hand, and Anne closed her eyes, leaning into the touch. Max stroked her cheek with her thumb for a moment. Anne opened her eyes.

Both of them moved at the same time, but their kiss was gentle, not harsh, when they met between the seats. Anne grew more desperate after a moment, and Max pushed the hand on her cheek back into her hair, holding her hard and fast against her lips for a long moment before drawing away, though she didn’t go far. She leaned their foreheads together and, after a long couple of seconds, opened her eyes to find Anne’s already watching her. Her eyes looked extra bright where the dim lighting of the parking garage mixed with the natural sunshine from the afternoon outside, painting their car in a soft glow.

“I’m just worried about you,” Max said quietly. “Of course it is good news, if you are happy.”

“I am.”

“Then I am happy for you.”

They sat there for another long minute, not moving. Then, as though pulled by twin invisible forces, they both leaned away from each other, grabbed their things, and climbed out of the car. Max caught Anne’s hand as they walked back from the car toward their home.

Jack was already back from training for his match next week when Max unlocked the front door. He was sitting on the couch and bent intently over his computer, but he looked up when they walked in, and his eyes lost no time in finding Anne and narrowing to a pointed stare. Max instinctively swallowed.

Anne didn’t seem as bothered. She threw Max’s book bag onto the couch and grabbed for one the chips out of the bowl he had set out beside him.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” she asked, sitting down beside him and peering over at his screen.

“This,” said Jack, shoving the laptop over so she could have a better view. “The most ridiculous rumors are flying all over the internet today—you know I got home to _six_ different emails asking me to comment on the news? Apparently, you’ve come out. To some worthless slug of a frat boy, too. And I thought they had run out of stupid shit to say about us.”

Anne read out some of the headlines, which ranged to everything from her being a girlfriend-stealing alcoholic to her being a professional dominatrix at everybody and their mothers’ local dungeon. Anne scoffed after that one and looked away, leaning back on the couch. She flipped on the TV and got comfortable.

“That’s not shit, Jack. That’s true. Well, not the dominatrix part. But the part where I came out, for sure.”

Max decided it would be a good time to take cover in the kitchen. She barely got three steps before her movement evidently reminded Jack of her presence, and he whipped around to turn his glare on her, now. Cursing internally, Max turned to face him with her hands on her hips.

“Don’t give me that look,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Oh, _god_. So it’s true then? The frat boy, and the…” He whirled back to Anne. “And you! Did you really think that was…wise? I thought you’d talked to Billy about this.”

“What the fuck does that bonehead know?” Anne snorted. “He said it would be damaging to my reputation to let the whole world know I was lesbian. Well, shows what he knows.”

“He’s right!” said Jack. “Look, I’m sorry, Anne. It’s the way it is in women’s sports—it ain’t pretty, but it’s true.”

“Oh, fuck off. Shows what you know, too. Like my reputation can go even more into the shitter than it already is? Christ, Jack, and I thought you at least were smart.”

Max stifled her laughter; Jack didn’t bother. He laughed loud and long, until Anne was forced to grin a little too. Then he just said, “Alright, you’ve got me there,” and the subject was closed. They fought over the remote and what to watch during the commercial breaks between _Spartacus_ episodes. Max went to start dinner before she and Anne had to meet Idelle and the other girls later tonight.

“Will either of you have broccoli, or do you just want rice?” she called, and of course they both said rice.

And that was the end of it.

 

With only a few hours left before Anne’s big championship match, they went out to dinner to calm everyone’s nerves. Jack was definitely panicking the most visibly. Anne, though clearly anxious about it, was just sitting in the booth with her fingers laced and her head slightly bowed. Max, with her heart beating hard, nevertheless relegated herself the role of calming Anne, so she sipped at her beer and rubbed Anne’s back and murmured reassurances to her until the waitress came out with their plate of hot wings.

“God, I love Applebee’s,” said Jack, diving in immediately and panting hard when it burned his mouth. Max rolled her eyes.

Just over two weeks had passed since the internet exploded in rumors about Anne Bonny and her mystery girlfriend. She hadn’t confirmed it, and the media hadn’t quite picked up on it either except to mention that those rumors existed, but with nothing substantial on record there wasn’t much else to do. None of the drama and speculation had yet died out, though. Anne, for her part, seemed not to notice or care that everyone was talking about her; she seemed much more nervous about her fight tonight, which would determine who went home a champion this season. She had bitten her nails down to their ends and kept watching and rewatching videos of her soon-to-be opponent, so she could study her moves.

The wings had cooled somewhat. Max had a hard time convincing Anne to eat something, but eventually she coaxed her into filling her stomach with something other than butterflies. Max drained her beer and got a refill, half of which she tipped into Anne’s mouth.

“There you go,” she said, rubbing circles into Anne’s back again. “You feel better now, don’t you?”

Anne looked a little pale now. She admitted, “Yeah, a little.”

“Good to fill up your stomach before a fight,” said Jack, who had attacked more than half the plate of wings and only now leaned back in his seat. “Now come on, don’t want to be late.”

“Jack, don’t make it worse,” Max snapped.

“No, he’s right,” said Anne, pushing herself up a little in the seat. “We should get going.”

Max shrugged. She flagged the waitress down, ate a few more wings while they waited for the bill to come out, and put it down to their joint checking account. Then she grabbed Anne’s hand and tugged her out of the booth.

“Jack, you drive,” she said, digging the keys out of the folds of her skirt and tossing them over. “Come on,” she added to Anne, tugging her toward the backseat of the car.

They slid in together, and Max curled her arm around Anne’s shoulders. They jostled into each other when Jack started the car and pulled out onto the freeway.

Jack promised to find their seats once they pulled into the parking lot, and Max headed backstage with Anne to help her get ready. She would join him down in the audience later.

Anne had regained a little of her color on the ride over, and her grip on Max’s hand was as strong as ever as she pulled her down the twisting hallways. This stadium was bigger than the others she had fought in, and Max couldn’t find her way around as well. She followed Anne instead, who had been in the day before to get the layout of the place before her match tonight, and Anne tugged her along behind her as she made her way toward her dressing room.

“No pass, no entry.”

Max stumbled to a halt at the mouth of a well-lit hall lined with doors. A security guard was standing there, using his arm to block her from passing. Anne, who had already walked past but stopped when Max’s halting pulled on their joined hands, ducked back under his arm and cast him an unpleasant grimace.

“The fuck are you playing at?”

“Anne, it’s alright,” said Max. She turned her attention back to the guard, who crossed his arms in response. “I’m with her.”

“Ms Bonny, you’re free to go,” the guard said, nodding his head down the hall. His eyes were trained on Max, though.

“Not without her,” said Anne at once.

“I don’t know her, and she’s got no pass. No pass, no entry. Them’s the rules, ladies. I don’t make them, I just get paid to enforce them.”

Anne set her jaw, looking aggravated. Max gave her a look to quell her temper. She laced her fingers together behind her back, doing her best to look feminine and appealing; Max knew how to be flirty to get her way. The security guard’s gaze did not soften when he looked at her, but that didn’t stop her from batting her eyelashes and giving him a smile.

“Come on, you can make an exception for the star fighter,” she said, pitching her voice low and enticing. “Don’t you know that after this, she’ll be a champion? I’m no threat. I’m just her…” She stumbled; she hadn’t meant to say that. She glanced sideways at Anne, but her expression was stone and gave no indication of what she should say, so Max swallowed and finished, “…friend.”

It was flimsy and awkward, and Max felt immediately bad because she knew that she could lie much better than that. She glanced over at Anne, cringing before Anne even opened her mouth.

But Anne just rolled her eyes, said, “Actually, she’s my girlfriend, so let her the fuck backstage,” and grabbed Max’s hand to pull her around the security guard before either of them could say another word. Max wasn’t sure whose eyes were wider in terrified shock: hers or the guard’s. Either way, he was frozen and didn’t stop them. She tripped after Anne down the hall.

Once they were safely enclosed in Anne’s dressing room, Max let out a mighty breath of air. Anne was holding her sides and pacing.

“Fuck, Anne. Forget rumors; this is legitimate now.”

“Fuck,” Anne agreed. She straightened, seeming to regain control of herself. “Anyway, no time to think about it now. Come and help me get ready.”

It was up to Anne to decide, Max knew. So she said no more on the subject and instead started rummaging around in the drawers for the tape for Anne’s hands while Anne changed into her boxing clothes. By the time Max found the wrappings, Anne was in her boxing shorts and sports bra, and Max beckoned her closer. She tossed Anne’s cap off and onto the couch. Anne did up her hair. Then Anne held out her hands, and Max started wrapping the tape around her outstretched fists.

“How are you feeling?” asked Max as she worked, glancing up into Anne’s face.

Anne swallowed. “Fine,” she said, sounding unsure. She cleared her throat then and added, “No, I am fine. I’ve watched all this woman’s fights. I know her moves. And I know I can beat her.”

“But?”

Anne shook her head lightly. “I don’t know. I just…What if I’m not good enough, Max?”

Her eyes were wide. Max finished taping up one hand and leaned up to press a kiss to her cheek.

“You’ll do fine,” she said. She held Anne’s gaze for a protracted moment before going back to work and taping up her other hand. “You know how you focus once a match begins. Once that bell sounds, you’ll forget all about what’s at stake. I know you can do this, my love.”

Anne swallowed, but her expression was stone. She nodded, once, and Max leaned up to press a kiss to her forehead. Anne pulled on her gloves just as the guard from earlier leaned into the room to tell her it was time for her to go out there. At Anne’s nod, he shut the door. Max met her eyes.

After a second, Anne pulled her close by the shoulders and kissed her hard. When they pulled back, Max nodded once. Anne said nothing, just turned and headed out the door. Now that she was finally alone and could fall apart, she let herself lean against Anne’s dressing table and take a few deep, gasping breaths. She knew she had to go out there to support her, seated right beside Jack in the front row as always, so after a moment she righted herself and headed outside.

Jack was on the edge of his seat when Max joined him in the audience. He barely looked at her, just kept chewing on his nails, and Max had nothing to say to him either. The time for reassurance and exchanging anxieties was over; there was nothing left to do but watch the match and pray that Anne came out on top.

 

Max had her heart in her throat, even after the fight was done. She had to wait to go speak to Anne, but she pushed her way to the front of the roaring crowd waiting for Anne outside, all the way to the rope marking off where she could and couldn’t go. She pressed forward, leaning over toward where Anne was standing with her sweatshirt and baseball cap back on, talking to a reporter. Billy Bones stood behind her, ready to jump in the minute she said something that she shouldn’t.

Anne met Max’s eyes for just a moment, and Max thought she caught a smile flash her way for a fraction of a second before Anne turned her eyes away.

“So how’s it feel now,” asked the interviewer, a man Max had seen talking to Anne on TV countless times before, “being a champion?”

“John, I’m not sure it’s hit me yet,” said Anne. “I mean, I’m—I’m just in shock.”

Her eyes met Max’s again.

“Ms Bonny, you’ve been fighting your way to this point for years,” said John, drawing her attention toward him again. “What would you say has kept you going? Was it the draw of fame? Wanting to know you were the best that’s out there?”

Anne scratched at the back of her neck. Her face reddened almost, but not quite, imperceptibly.

“I did it because I like fighting,” she said at last. Billy fidgeted beside her. “I don’t care if I’m the best. I mean, that’s a nice perk, yeah.”

“So what kept you going, then?” John pressed. “What made you get in the ring again and again, even when you lost? Even when you didn’t want to?”

“You mean what was I looking forward to?” said Anne. John nodded; Billy shifted again. Suddenly Anne was looking right at Max, a long and unbroken stare, and Max knew what Anne was going to say before she said it. “I guess it was knowing that I was coming home to my girlfriend, Max. She’s graduating soon, top of her class in business. And she’s got job offers already all over the country. She’s been accepted into the best of the best. She’s going to work for New Providence after she gets out of university, and I…I want us to deserve each other.” She sounded so proud, sure and shining. She was still looking at Max. “Max?”

Anne stretched out a hand, past John, directly at Max. The crowd behind her was suddenly silent. Max knew that their shock would break in a moment, so she ducked under the velvet rope quickly and joined Anne in front of the camera. It was a little nerve-wracking knowing this was streaming live, but she looked at Anne standing calm and sure beside her, and felt her nerves settle.

“I wasn’t just doing this for myself,” said Anne.

Max grinned. “I am so proud of you,” she said, and she leaned up to capture Anne in a sure but intense kiss.

That’s when the shock broke over the crowd; and there was screaming and stomping as everyone pressed up as close as they could to the velvet rope, and security was having a difficult time keeping everyone in check. The cameras were clicking away right at their faces, and Billy was groaning in frustration, and John was trying to ask them something but neither of them cared enough to hear it.

When Max pulled away from the kiss, she still only had eyes for Anne.

“You did it,” she whispered.

Anne pressed her forehead to Max’s.

“We’re on top of the fucking world.”

 

*** * * * * * ***

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [i'm still, sadly, on tumblr](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/164486208825)
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> xoxox


	3. Chapter 3

          III. champions

 

Max’s graduation came with the quiet force of a fog, completely unseen until it settled over everything and seemed to divide the world into sections: In the fog and out of it. Before, she was just in college, dealing contraband to a city and kissing her girlfriend like young adults are supposed to—meaning, messily and all over the place. After the fog she would be thrust into the real world, a young business woman with a young business woman’s serious job, working at one of the fastest rising companies in the city and dating the world’s latest boxing championship winner.

But for now she was settling a graduation cap over her curly hair and trying to remember which way the tassel was supposed to go. She was so busy fussing with her robes that she didn’t immediately notice Anne enter their bedroom until she appeared in the mirror beside her. Max started, then smiled. Anne silently moved Max’s tassel to the other side.

“You look fantastic,” said Anne, looking her over. “When did you get that dress?”

“I wore it to your championship dinner last month,” said Max, tossing her a sly glance over her shoulder. She smoothed down the cotton blue dress she wore underneath the graduation robes, until it puffed out slightly near her hips. The gown was so big that it covered that part anyway, but it would look pretty afterward. “I don’t think you noticed. You were very busy trying to get me out of it.”

Anne shook her head. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, button that up—we’re going to be late if we don’t get going soon.”

Max took one last look at herself in the mirror and took a deep breath. The next time she stood here, she would not be the same woman.

Anne took her hand and guided her out of the apartment and into the car. Jack was there, and he briefly tried to fight Anne over who got to drive, before conceding defeat since it was Max’s day and she didn’t want to hear fighting right now. He slid into the backseat.

Anne seemed to drive slower than usual on the way to campus, even more than was necessary with the roads clogged with families coming to see the graduates. In no time, however, Max found them parked and out of the car and then she was in line with the other graduates, waiting to be seated.

The ceremony was long. Max wound up sitting next to this pale girl who kept talking to Max about her jitters, and Max did her best to swallow down her own. It wasn’t so much that she was scared about having a future so much as she was nervous to move on to the rest of her life. She always came out on top, it was the turning points in between that never did her any favors.

Soon her row got up, and Max with them. She straightened her cap on her head and did her best to smile brightly; Idelle had brought a camera and would be unleashing it at will. Max’s eyes found Anne in the crowd. A small group of younger boys had surrounded Anne, and they were clearly fans because they kept pushing each other for her attention, but Anne just shoved them off and, when Max’s name was finally called, clapped and cheered louder than all the rest.

Then Max was out in the fresh air again, and Anne’s arm was around her shoulders, and her friends had converged around them and she could breathe again. Anne was kissing her, and Max jolted back into her body so she could kiss her back.

“You did it,” whispered Anne. “You fucking did it—”

“Max!” said Idelle, pressing close, popping their bubble. “You fucking woman!”

Max gave a wild laugh and hugged Idelle back when she threw her arms around Max’s shoulders.

“Congratulations!” said Idelle, leaning away and pressing her palms to either side of Max’s face. Then she gave a great sigh and wrapped her again in a tight embrace.

“Come on, save some for me,” said Jack from behind her; laughing, Idelle stepped out of the way and Jack wrapped her up in a bear hug so tight, she had to paw at him after a minute to get him to let her breathe.

When he let her down, her other friends surrounded and besieged her with congratulations and hugs; she couldn’t stop laughing, and the shock was still set inside her and she couldn’t feel her toes, either. She couldn’t believe it. She had _done_ it.

Even Eleanor was there to give her congratulations, hugging her tightly and whispering how proud she was in her ear. It had been a long while since Max had wanted her validation, but her respect still sat warmly in her stomach, and Max beamed back at her when they parted.

“Alright, alright.” Jack, pushing back toward her. “Come on, Idelle’s making us all take pictures and then we can hit the after party.”

“After party?” said Max.

“Oh, just you wait,” said Anne, rolling her eyes. Now that the others had stepped away, she came up closer to Max and slipped her hand into hers. “Jack really went all out for it, it’s disgusting.”

“Since when is an open bar ‘all-out’?” Jack protested.

“Free drinks?” said Max. “Oh, now I really _am_ interested.”

As promised, Idelle did make them take so many candid _and_ posed pictures that by the end, Max thought her cheeks might fall off from smiling. They took some in front of the business building, a few of Anne and Max sprawled out on their favorite make-out spot on the lawn, and did an obligatory photoshoot by the big university sign. Jack wanted to have a few with her by the local bar, too, since he insisted they had spent enough of their weekends there; Max’s friend Esther wanted to take a few out in the little clearing of trees just inside the border to the woods, because she insisted they had spent enough of their afternoons there smoking, and dealing.

“Give the woman a break,” said Anne at last, many hours later, throwing her arm around Max’s shoulders. “Come on, she’ll be back—most of you lot are still in school.”

“Yes,” Eleanor agreed, “Let’s relax and go see what we can make of Jack’s credit card at that open bar, hmm?”

The others agreed. Jack, slightly pink, said loudly that he meant it was open for Max, only, and the rest of them would have to get drunk on their own dime.

The bar was crowded, although it was only six o’clock by then. A lot of the other graduates seemed to have felt they needed to celebrate with a pint or two as well, because the floor was a sea of blue caps and their friends in nice dress. Max secured them all a table of their own and Eleanor went up to get the first round.

They all toasted to Max taking her first steps in the real world, which made Max feel a mix of extremely proud and slightly sick. She didn’t let that show in her smile, though.

By eight-thirty the bar was already rowdy, and Max’s friends were a substantial part of that fact. She was red in the face herself, up at the bar downing a kamikaze shot with Idelle and Anne, who were sloppy drunk and loud drunk, respectively.

“To our graduates!” someone roared, and everyone in the bar cheered and Anne ordered her and Max another beer to split.

Someone had turned up the stereo by then, and they were shouting to be heard over the music. Idelle was standing up on a table toasting loudly to Max’s future success, which made Eleanor climb up on the chair beside her, throw her arm around Idelle’s shoulder, and swear that she would personally make sure of it. The two girls collapsed into laughter thereafter, and helped each other back down to the floor so they could go dance. Max watched the spectacle with amusement and passed the beer she was holding back to Anne.

Some other people they knew had joined them by then—Augustus for one, and even Charles Vane had shocked her by showing his face a little over an hour ago before promptly disappearing into a bathroom with Eleanor, who had come back out thirty minutes later with red cheeks and ruffled hair.

By the time they all stumbled out of the bar at midnight, everybody had their arms around somebody else and they were stumbling to walk down the road. People were making plans up ahead to stay at this dorm or that one because they couldn’t drive home; Max, Jack, and Anne had all separately promised a couple of people that they could crash on their couch and floor.

Max’s friends bid her and each other goodbye, with many hugs going around and plenty of people bidding her congratulations again. They managed to secure a Lyft ride, and everyone going back to their apartment piled in together. They got in just after one o’clock in the morning, and Max said a quiet, exhausted goodnight to everybody and retreated into her bedroom.

She stepped out of her gown and dress, hung her cap on the corner of the mirror, and paused to catch a glimpse of herself in the glass. Her eyeliner was smudged on the bottom and the bags under her eyes were prominent, but something from a well deep within her seemed to shine with pride and happiness, too.

When Max returned from washing her face, Anne was stretched out on their bed. Her eyes were closed, but she peaked them open for a second when Max shut the door behind her. Anne had pulled on a big t-shirt that Max had gotten at some campus event or other, but nothing else. Max, smiling softly at the sight, unclasped her bra, stepped into a pair of cotton shorts, and snuggled up to Anne’s side in bed. Anne raised her arm automatically to accommodate her, curling it around her middle.

Max bumped her nose into the side of Anne’s cheek to get her attention. Anne smiled slightly but didn’t open her eyes.

“What?” she asked. Her voice sounded husky, weighed down with tiredness.

Max shifted closer to her, their knees bumping together, her arms curled in between their chests.

“Thanks for being there with me today.”

Anne opened her eyes finally, but she didn’t say anything at first. After a protracted moment, she leaned down and pressed their lips together in a very gentle kiss.

“Don’t ever thank me, Max,” said Anne, shifting around to get more comfortable, shutting her eyes again too. “Today was your day. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t be there for, for the woman I love.”

 

Max stepped off the train and the cool air of the city immediately whipped her hair across her face, blinding her further as she squinted into the sun. She discerned the direction she was supposed to go in, slipped on her sunglasses, and set off in a quick and purposeful walk toward the big New Providence building stretching up in the distance, a few blocks away.

The walk there seemed to pass far too quickly, and before she knew it, Max was standing at the foot of the building and looking at it stretching up toward the great blue sky. She allowed herself a brief moment to pause, take a very deep, bracing breath, and then she held her head a little higher and strode inside.

The day was hectic; she didn’t get another proper breath the whole time. Max was expected to both learn the ropes and do a several minor tasks for her superiors on top of that. She was constantly hearing her name called, her new flats were chafing up her ankles, and she had her lunch hour cut short by the flurried arrival of Eleanor, who stopped in to see how her first day was going and to give her plenty of advice, too. It was uninvited, but welcome and helpful anyway.

Before Max had had any time to process any of it, it was five o’clock and she found herself standing on the sidewalk again, all the breath gone from her body, her hair falling out of its careful bun, and her first day quickly and busily behind her.

On the train home, she dialed Anne.

“Can we meet for dinner?” said Max, right after they had exchanged hellos and idle questions about how they were doing, before Anne could ask about her day. “Our favorite place?”

The diner that they most liked to frequent was unfortunately sandwiched directly between a sports shop, which sold jerseys and caps and thematic coffee mugs and the like, and a fast food burger joint. This meant that Max and Anne rarely got to spend a moment alone there, because while they went out quite often there for breakfast and lunch, so too did their most loyal supporters tend to frequent the establishments on either side of the diner. The pair of them were usually quite visible through the window, as the place itself was rather small—especially during times like this, when they went there for the rare time in the evening and the street outside was positively bustling.

Max was most often bothered by the hungry, poor college students, sports-obsessed frat boys, and burger-loving srat girls that had once proved her most loyal customers. Although she had told them that she knew plenty of other distributors on campus, and had even recommended a few of them personally, she still regularly saw people she barely recognized stop, stare at her for a moment through the window, and then come sauntering up to their table trying to be casual when they asked if she still had any of the _product_ that they favored. Max, trying to be polite, usually informed them that she was more or less legitimate now, and had a real job at a real company and didn’t want or need to jeopardize her good fortune with a sadly looked-down-upon side business. They were rarely happy with this answer, but they usually left without much fuss.

Harder to shake off were Anne’s regular visitors: the boxing fans.

As it happened, the sports shop next door sold many hats, t-shirts, and jackets with BONNY stitched across the fabric—it was one of the pitfalls of being the local hometown hero. (She even had a figurine, which Max thought very funny.) Anne didn’t mind being recognized in public spaces, but there were two things she hated most about that store. For one, they sold replicas of her famed baseball cap for an extremely inflated price, especially considering that she had gotten it at a thrift shop in middle school and that it was rather plain-looking.

The other thing that frustrated her were fans recognizing her as they walked out of that store, usually with her merchandise swinging in a bag, and spotted her through the window and came inside to say hello. Although on the street she usually enjoyed the attention, she seemed much less disposed toward kindness when they interrupted her dinners with Max.

As was the case that night, after Max had gotten off her first day of work. It was a lovely late summer evening, and Max and Anne were sitting over milkshakes and chicken strips but not talking because a boy named Todd was standing at the head of their table and doing enough of that on his own.

“I really can’t wait until you get back in the ring, I’ve seen every fight you’ve ever had, I mean—”

“Thanks,” said Anne flatly. She had been much more accommodating when he had walked up to them ten minutes ago, but her patience was visibly flagging. Max couldn’t find it in herself to make up for the missing courtesy, either, but she was nevertheless slightly charmed by his enthusiasm on Anne’s behalf.

“It’s just amazing what you’ve done in four, five years. Me, I just started school up here and it’s crazy to think you had barely started out when you were my age. You didn’t go there, right? It’s just I heard you were around on campus all the time—”

He smiled hopefully here. Anne blinked at him for a long few seconds, seeming to come back to herself now that his rambling had abruptly, momentarily halted.

“I probably won’t be over there much anymore,” she said finally. “Max just graduated. I wasn’t really visiting for any other—”

“It’s just that, you know, it would have been cool to see you around,” said Todd, blushing furiously now. “You know, all my friends say I have a bit of a, um, a crush on you and that—” He flushed when Max raised her eyebrows at him, but rushed on, “I mean, I know it’s crazy and nothing would ever happen, but it’s just a shame that you’re…”

Max continued looking at him with warning in her expression, her good cheer waning. Anne’s face shifted and contorted into something more like disgust, and outrage.

“Well, I guess it’s a good thing that it’s not up to you then.”

“I didn’t mean—I just meant—”

“Who wouldn’t be entirely swept away by her?” Max cut in. “I mean she’s got it all, doesn’t she? The brawn and the brain and the looks, too.”

“And she’s a _champion_ ,” said Todd eagerly. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Ms Bonny, really. I just…you’re kind of one of my heroes.”

“It’s sweet,” said Max, tilting her head at Anne now. “Who wouldn’t be star struck by you?”

Anne watched her impassively for a moment until she gave in with a sigh, relaxing minutely. Todd, though blushing at her words, nonetheless nodded his fervent agreement.

“Thanks, I guess,” said Anne at last. “I’m glad I have people like you in my corner.”

“We’re very proud of you,” Max said warmly to her. Smiling softly, she reached out to rub a bit of diet Coke from the corner of Anne’s mouth. Anne turned and kissed her palm.

“I didn’t mean to keep you so long,” said Todd. When they turned their attentions back toward him, he was already beginning to back away, both his palms raised in the air. “I’ll let you get back to your dinner. Thanks for talking with me, you guys.”

“It’s no problem,” said Anne. “I hope to see you at more matches next year, alright?”

“I’ll definitely be there,” said Todd. Grinning, he waved at them both and then turned and left the diner. They watched him through the window as he walked back down the street.

“That was nice,” said Max, getting back into her ketchup-drenched chicken. “He was a little annoying, but…nice.”

“Who cares about him anymore?” said Anne. “Can we get back to something I actually care about? How was your first day at your big, important adult job, huh? What’s the real world like?”

Max rolled her eyes and kicked at Anne’s ankles beneath the table.

“You’ve been in the real world since you graduated high school,” said Max.

“Well, _you_ haven’t. Why are you dodging the question? It can’t have been that bad.”

Max shook her head. “Not bad, just…insane. They had me running around all day, and I’ve already forgotten half my coworkers’ names…I’m happy to have a moment to catch my breath with you.”

Anne’s foot knocked into hers beneath the table. Max grinned at her and took another long sip of her milkshake, and it tasted sweeter.

“I’d offer to go up there and convince a few of them to be a little bit more respectful, but I think you’d have that covered if that’s what you wanted.”

Max laughed. She reached across the table for Anne’s hand, and squeezed it when Anne, smiling too, complied.

“I love you,” said Max.

Anne rolled her eyes.

“Sap,” she said, fondly, squeezing her hand.

 

Watching Anne get interviewed was unusual when she wasn’t viewing it from the comfort of her own couch, her bowl in her hand and Jack on her other side, both sneering at the barely-concealed lesbophobia of the interviewer and Anne’s cagey, closeted answers.

No, this time Anne had brought her along to the event she was at, and Max had on a stunning floor-length silver dress, and even Anne had dressed up a little better than usual (meaning she had dispensed with her baseball cap, for once), and Max was squeezing her hand every now and again on camera while a reporter warmly asked questions about Anne, and about her and Max’s relationship, and about boxing of course, too. Billy Bones was standing behind them, as usual, but he seemed to have forgone most of his hope that Anne would ever behave and was letting them talk with almost no interruption.

“So, you’ve said before that Max is one of your inspirations for getting back in the ring,” started the interviewer. She was a young woman named Mary Read, and Max had always liked her, from what she saw of her on TV; she never pressed anyone for details about their love lives, she was always much more interested in their careers. It was sadly refreshing. “What do you plan on doing now, now that you came out top of the league? Do you plan on settling down now and letting life get back to normal?”

“Fighting _is_ normal for me,” said Anne, chewing on her lip. Then she rested her hand on Max’s waist. “So is Max. She’s one of the reasons I stayed in the ring, but I got started for _me_. And just because I won once, don’t mean I won’t keep trying to go on winning.”

“So it’s about the fame?” asked Mary, tilting her head curiously.

“I do it because I like it,” said Anne bluntly. “It wasn’t ever about money or a title. I just wanna keep doing it.”

“Well, I think that’s one of the best reasons,” said Mary. “Maybe one of the few good ones.”

“It keeps me focused,” said Anne. “There ain’t nothing going to my head when I’m just in there for the love of the game.”

Mary beamed. “That’s absolutely right. Well, good luck to you in the next season. Do you have any plans for your time off?”

“I have some surprises,” Max cut in. She usually tried not to talk during Anne’s interviews, because it wasn’t about her at all, but she couldn’t help herself this time. She gripped onto Anne’s arm and leaned toward Mary eagerly. “I have a few days of vacation time coming up, and I have big plans for me and her.”

Anne grumbled good-naturedly, flicking one of Max’s curls out of her face. Max laughed and batted her hand away, then caught it and pressed the back of it to her lips. Behind them, Billy whispered for Max to knock it off, so she let go with a roll of her eyes.

“Is that how you’re spending your winnings?” Mary laughed, ignoring Billy almost as easily as Anne did. The question didn’t seem judgmental; rather, it sounded like their joy was infecting her too, making her grin.

“Those would be my winnings, actually,” said Max, lifting her brow. Billy touched her shoulder. Max ignored him.

“She’s hitting it big,” Anne gloated, in response to Mary’s confused expression. “She’s got it all figured out. Cushy job, bloated salary. I’m still working to impress her.”

“Oh, stop it.” Max knocked their shoulders together, then leaned in and pecked her on the cheek.

“I hope you two enjoy yourselves on your trip,” said Mary, watching them, and she really did sound sincere. To Anne, she added, “I trust we’ll be seeing a lot of you in the coming years.”

“I hope so,” said Anne.

They exchanged pleasant goodbyes, and then Mary and her cameraman wandered off to find someone else at the event they could go speak to. Anne turned to Max and offered out her arm.

“Let’s go find food, and Jack. Yeah?”

Max put her hand on Anne’s arm and smiled at her. They both ignored Billy trying to tell them off about proper event behavior.

“Yes, let’s,” Max agreed.

 

Turned out that their vacation time looked like this: Max booking them both cheap round trip tickets, Anne blowing a lot of her championship winnings on a hotel on the coast of France, and spending a few days with both of them lounging around in bathing suits in a secluded corner of the heated pool, sipping at drinks they got from the swim-up bar and watching the late-afternoon sun play off each other’s faces and hair.

“What are we toasting this round to?” asked Anne, although she was already sipping on her wet martini. They had found a corner of the pool with a bench to sit and Anne was lounging comfortably, her elbow thrown out, her martini glass just barely above water.

“Hmm, let’s see…we already did it to my vacation days, and your title, and to us…how about…”

“How about to our future?” suggested Anne. She raised her martini.

Max shook hair from her eyes. She smiled and raised her own glass, a smooth Manhattan, and said, “To our future. May it be as fortuitous and kind to us as our past has been.”

They clinked their drinks together and took long sips. Max watched the line of Anne’s throat work around her martini, and she could practically taste the bitterness of it on her own tongue. She licked her lips, put down her own drink. When Anne had swallowed hers, Max reached over and plucked the glass away by the stem, and she set it on Anne’s other side, leaning so close to do it that she could hear the hiccup in Anne’s breathing. Max curled her hands into the edge of the pool on either side of Anne’s shoulders and kissed her, gently at first, and then harder when Anne’s fingers wove their way into her hair.

When the sideways curve of her body became uncomfortable with the dips and dives of her head as they kissed more fervently, Max slid her knee over Anne’s thighs and settled there on her lap. Anne’s hands had found her waist, and she touched Anne’s shoulders, using them as leverage to lift herself up and position herself a head above the other woman. Anne slid her grip down from her waist, over her ass, and squeezed just a second before wrapping her hands around Max’s thighs, way high up just where they ended. Max grinned against her mouth.

“You do know this is a public pool, right?” Anne growled, although that didn’t stop her from pressing her face into her neck and kissing open-mouthed.

Max laughed, shaking her hair out of her face. She cupped Anne’s face between her hands and bent so that their noses brushed as she shook her head. Their mouths were inches apart.

“Other people just love to ruin our fun,” Max lamented.

She brushed their lips together one more time, then slid back into her seat at Anne’s side. Anne brushed some of Max’s hair off her shoulder and pressed a rueful kiss to her collar.

“Let’s get more drinks,” she said, and tipped back the rest of her own.

Smiling, Max watched as she whisked away, doing an awkward stroke toward the bar that was a mix between breaststroke and doggy paddle. Max nestled her teeth into her bottom lip and watched her go. Anne’s back muscles rippled wonderfully underneath the water, she worked her arms in such a way that her biceps’ definition was clear, and she shook back her hair every few strokes in a delightfully exasperated way.

Max kissed her when she returned with their drinks, short and sweet. Anne smiled back, easy, like she loved her too.

 

Max loved Jack. She loved living with Jack. She loved that he slept in the next room and that he was always right there if she needed him, and she loved how happy he made Anne every time she saw him.

She also loved being on vacation in Saint-Tropez without him; it meant that Anne could ride her as long as they wanted and be as loud as they pleased, without any neighbors banging on the wall or Jack barging in to tell them to shut up, _please_ , he was trying to watch TV.

Max pressed her nails into Anne’s waist, and Anne tilted her head back in a long, barely-audible moan that sounded like it came from somewhere in the very core of her chest. Her mouth hung open, her long hair almost brushed Max’s thighs.

“God—Max—don’t—stop… _please_ …”

Max pressed her hips up in one hard, long motion, twisting them so that the strap-on stayed inside of Anne all the way, and she gasped shallowly until Max let up and collapsed back on the mattress. Anne fell on top of her, gripping her hair, kissing her wet and open-mouthed and hard.

“You never do listen,” Anne said ruefully.

Max nipped at her lip, and Anne smiled into their kiss. Max pressed her fingertips into Anne’s ribs and used her grip to roll them over, until she was on top cradled in between Anne’s legs. She pressed the strap-on back inside her slowly, watching Anne’s face contort and relax. They both paused once it was inside her, breathing shallowly—Max let her catch her breath. Then without warning, she started fucking her hard, fast, until Anne was twisting around on the mattress and whispering prayers.

“Yes?” said Max, biting down gently into her collar. “Should I finish you off now or have you wait ‘til later?”

Wordlessly, Anne hitched her legs up and wrapped them around Max’s waist. Laughing softly, Max lifted herself up into a position that had more leverage above her, and she started thrusting into her relentlessly, passionate, until Anne had her arms splayed out, her hands grasping for something that wasn’t there, and she came with a wild unbroken cry. Max slowed down, going more gently, until the arch in Anne’s back gave out and she managed to swallow down the groan still aching past her lips. She didn’t immediately open her eyes.

Max eased the strap-on out of her and unbuckled it, tossing it to the side. She rolled over to press up against Anne’s side where she was still gasping on her back. Max stroked her hair, pushing it off of her sweaty forehead. Anne grabbed her hand and pressed a few kisses to her palm before she let her go, and Max used that hand to stroke Anne’s side instead.

“Can we stay on vacation all the time?” Anne groaned, throwing her arm over her eyes to block it from the sun streaming in through their ocean-front windows.

After a second, Max stood up and moved toward the window. For a moment, she didn’t say anything—just stood there and watched the waves crashing against the bright sand, watched the sun hovering far above the horizon, and the people walking down by the shoreline.

“Let’s go for a walk down the beach.”

Max turned around. Anne was still laying with her arm over her eyes and wasn’t looking at her, but when she spoke, she lifted her arm up and focused on Max, wide-eyed.

Sitting up, Anne pulled the blankets up to her chest.

“Don’t you want me to finish you off first?” she said, glancing down Max’s body to where she was shifting her thighs together uncomfortably where the wet made moving slightly awkward.

“After,” said Max, ignoring her body’s buzzing. “There’s a cave by the rocks we can look for. I want to see if the rumors of the cove are real, too.”

She strode back toward Anne and reached her hand out and pulled her to her feet.

“Okay,” said Anne. She hesitated, then kissed her briefly and moved around her to start getting dressed.

Max threw on a beach cover-up and bikini, forgoing shoes altogether. Anne chose flipflops and a bathing suit with just jean shorts to cover up her bottoms. They shut the door to their hotel room and descended down to earth.

 

There was a little rooftop bar on the top of their hotel. It sat right beside a pool that led right up to the edge of the building, and waiters would come out and serve nachos and salads and the like if they ordered it with their drinks.

Max was too cold to go swimming right now, but Anne had always been like a fish in the water. She missed it when she went without for too long, and now she was doing laps and underwater flips and laughing when she splashed Max, who was reclining on a lounge chair next to the pool and chatting with her while she swam.

“Do you think we could get lobster delivered to us up here?” asked Anne, coming up for air again. She rested her elbows on the side of the pool and cradled her head on her forearms, looking up at Max.

“I doubt it,” said Max, wrinkling her nose. “I got a cobb salad with shrimp here the other day, though. It was good. You could try that.”

Anne chewed her cheek in thought, then shook her head and pushed off from the wall, floating flat on her back with her limbs spread wide.

“What about smoked salmon? Or crab?”

“Maybe,” said Max, watching her with one eyebrow raised in amusement. “Why don’t you ask the bar staff?”

“I’m not in the mood,” said Anne. Without warning, she righted herself and lifted herself out of the pool, sitting instead on the side with her legs still idly kicking in the water. Max watched her warily.

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“I want to talk to you about something instead.”

“Is it about why you’re acting so strange tonight?”

Anne opened her mouth, looking affronted, and then promptly shut it again. Max reached a hand out toward her, and with a sigh, Anne grabbed it to pull herself up and then collapsed on the lounge chair right beside her. She sat cross-legged, wringing her hands and looking shy.

“I just want to get it right,” said Anne, looking down at her knees.

Max sat up and slung her legs off the chair so that they were facing each other. She reached out, carefully, and brushed her fingers against Anne’s cheek. Anne looked up at her.

“You can say anything you’d like with me,” said Max calmly. She pulled her hand back. “Or nothing at all, if you don’t want to.”

Anne inhaled deeply. Max waited, and watched. After a moment Anne reached out and took one of Max’s hands in hers, hard, and Max gripped back just as tightly. Their gazes met and held for one second, two, three. Max forgot to keep breathing.

Then Anne slid off her lounge chair and, in just her bikini and her dripping-wet hair, sank down onto one knee.

“Anne—”

“Shh,” said Anne. With Max’s hand still caught in hers, Anne leaned down and pressed her lips gently to the back of it. “Listen to me.”

Max remembered to breathe again. She nodded. Anne took another deep breath and went on.

“I love you more than…than anything. I never imagined getting to keep someone like you, but you’ve always made me feel…like I belonged somewhere, like I meant something good and right. I haven’t ever felt like that with anyone, not fully anyway. And I want to maybe, hopefully…give that feeling back to you, if you let me.”

“Anne.” Max’s voice was barely a whisper now. “You already do make me feel like that. And you too—I want you to always be that loved.”

Anne was scarlet by now, her hand shaking in Max’s. Max squeezed it tighter, and Anne breathed unsteadily out. She hadn’t looked away from her this whole entire time.

“Max, would you…will you please…God. Will you just fucking marry me?”

Max’s breath caught. She swallowed. She whispered back, _“Yes,”_ but Anne barely got a chance to laugh in relief because Max had already slid down to the floor with her and was kissing her over and over again, her lips and her cheeks and her forehead, everywhere she could reach. Anne was holding onto her shoulders and just _shaking_ , and when Max couldn’t stand not holding her anymore she wrapped her up in a violent hug, and Anne squeezed her back with all she had.

They pulled away only after several minutes. Max was grinning so hard her cheeks hurt.

“I love you,” she said, stroking Anne’s cheek with her thumb. “You son of a bitch. Proposing here of all places? A rooftop pool in fucking France?”

Anne shrugged. Her cheeks were still tinted pink.

“And you thought I wasn’t a romantic,” she said, rolling her eyes. Another laugh bubbled out of Max, and she threw her arms around her again. “I have a ring by the way. In the room. I just didn’t want to bring it here in case…just in case. If I lost my nerve or something.”

“Well, that doesn’t matter right now. Come on,” said Max, rising to her feet. Anne’s grip on her hand was so tight, she had to rise with her. “Let’s celebrate.”

“Okay, you first,” said Anne, and she ripped her hand free and pushed Max sideways into the pool.

Max came up a moment later, shrieking and peeling her hair from her eyes. With a growl, she grabbed Anne’s ankles where she was standing laughing on the side and pulled her in after her. They started splashing each other and trying to push each other under, only to, a moment later, start pushing back each other’s hair and kissing back and forth instead.

 

Max had always known she would claw her way to greatness. She was just relieved, and thrilled, and overwhelmingly happy, that she could always count on Anne being right beside her in equal stature, so they could share their spoils from the world with each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all SO much for staying on this journey with me. i had an amazing time writing this fic, and i hope you all liked reading it just as much.
> 
> as always, [i'm on tumblr here](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/165870574040), and i always love talking about maxanne + any other wlw at all times. or, just drop in to say hello :~)

**Author's Note:**

> title from lorde's [homemade dynamite](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OQsJ_FCCIMQ)
> 
>  
> 
> [see me on tumblr, i love girls](http://lesbianfreyja.tumblr.com/post/163923092680)
> 
>  
> 
> xoxox


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